Another Teenage Drama
by Melodious329
Summary: AU: Sam and Dean are unrelated teenagers. Dean is the jock and Sam is the brain and Dean's new tutor. But Dean has a secret, will Sam be able to help? Sam/Dean but not Wincest. Now with a sequel in progress
1. Chapter 1

_So this is completely AU: Sam and Dean are unrelated teenagers who are in their senior year of high school. Dean is the school jock with an unrelenting father and Sam is the brainiac whose father doesn't understand him and Sam is Dean's new tutor. _

_Tell me if the story line is too obvious, but this plot bunny got in my head and just wouldn't leave. Hope y'all like it. Oh and I have no idea what Ellen's husband's name is so I said it was William. If this is not correct and you know what his real name is, please tell me._

Sam sat in the small classroom, checking his watch every other second. Jock boy was late. Of course, Dean probably thought that his time was more important than Sam's own. Dean was captain of the football, basketball, and baseball teams and Sam was only the smart kid drafted to keep him from failing and getting kicked off all three teams.

He huffed a little as he saw the person in question hurrying toward the door. It didn't help Sam's mood that Dean was, in a word, gorgeous. Sam had come out to his friends and family two years ago, momentarily making himself a target for scorn at school. Fortunately, in high school everybody hates everybody and the bullies had mostly moved on. Of course, Sam's _father_ hadn't moved on.

Sam loved his father, he loved his family. He had been adopted at six months old, and Ellen and William (?) and even his younger sister, Jo were all the family he had ever known or wanted. He hadn't ever felt out of place, like he didn't belong, until he hit thirteen. These days it felt like Sam and his father couldn't be in the same room for more than five seconds without fighting. Sam felt like his dad didn't understand him at all, like his dad wanted him to be someone else, someone like Dean.

Sam was scowling as Dean burst into the room. "Sorry…" Dean started.

The blonde didn't get any further than that. Taking out his frustration on the first person available, Sam's voice was already loud and angry when he started speaking. "Listen, don't waste my time. I'm doing **you **a favor with these tutoring sessions so try to be on time."

Dean looked actually contrite, making Sam regret his harsh words. "I know and I do appreciate it. I really need your help."

Sam sighed and relented, gesturing to the seat across from him. Dean sat down gingerly.

Dean did need Sam's help. If he failed Algebra II, then he would be kicked off the football team and then his father would make this last weekend look like summer camp. His legs were so sore that he could barely walk. After the game on Friday, his father had said that Dean looked out of shape and had run the teen into the ground all weekend, including this morning. Dean hadn't even had time to eat breakfast and his stomach was growling loudly.

Sam heard the other teen's stomach and scowled again. If Dean thought that he was gonna wait some more while the jock went to get food, the blonde was sorely mistaken.

With effort, Sam reined in his frustration and tried speaking again. "Look, let's just start over. I'm Sam." The taller boy extended his hand across the table.

"Dean." They shook and then Dean was pulling out his book, calculator, and notebook. "So Sammy…"

"It's Sam," the brunette automatically replied. He hated it when people called him that nickname. Sammy was a chubby twelve year old that he didn't need to be reminded of.

But Dean smiled at Sam's reaction, a full-out smile bright enough to stop traffic. Sam thought that the sight of that smile might actually be worth letting Dean call him Sammy, not that he would ever admit that.

Trying desperately not to smile back, Sam turned to his own backpack. "So let's begin at the beginning, shall we?"

The session actually went pretty well after that. Dean was distracted, but not stupid. In fact it seemed to Sam that all the other teen really needed was some individual attention.

Dean at first had been hesitant to ask questions, not wanting to appear any more stupid than he already did. But Sam seemed to understand, going over the material slowly and having Dean work examples.

The only problem was Dean's attention span. He couldn't help it, his stomach was turning itself inside out and his legs were sore and cramping every time he took a breath. Occasionally, Sam would look over at him with those puppy-dog eyes, eyes that said 'are you ok' without voicing the words. Dean would just shake his head and try to focus again, trying to also ignore the way his heart stuttered to see Sam concerned over him.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

After practice that day, Dean went home to an empty house. Not that that was unusual. He and his father lived on what used to be called the 'wrong side of the tracks', a run down two bedroom house in an unsafe area.

It had been just his father and him since Dean was four when his mother died. John hadn't taken her death well and started drinking too much. Dean tried his best to take care of his father.

Tonight was no different and Dean set about making dinner before his father got home from the body-shop where he worked. Dean had clung to his father, unwilling to lose the remaining member of his family, even when John became more of a drill-sergeant and a drunkard than a father.

He knew that his father only wanted Dean to be the best. John was just 'toughening' his boy up, for Dean's own good.

Dinner was already ready when the phone rang. It was Bobby, the owner of the body-shop. The man used to be a friend to John, but now was a sort of surrogate father to Dean.

"Hey boy, how was school?"

Dean laughed. "Boring as usual."

Bobby laughed as well before his tone sobered. "Listen, John won't be home for dinner. He headed to the bar straight from work, again."

"Oh, ok. No big deal."

"Listen…"

Dean cut the older man off. It was a speech he had heard plenty of times before. "Its fine, Bobby."

A huff sounded down the line, before Bobby spoke again. "Well if you need anything…"

"I know where you are, Bobby, but its fine."

Dean wrapped the rest of the food in foil and put it in the refrigerator in case his father was hungry later and then set about eating his own dinner. He thought maybe he'd make muffins for tomorrow. And maybe his father wouldn't come home drunk and madder than hell tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Sam was again waiting in the small study room, but that was because the brunette liked to be early. Looking out the window in the door, he was surprised to see an on-time Dean striding jovially through the hallway, chatting with a few of the students there already.

Once in the door, Dean dropped a bag in front of the brunette. "Hey, brought you some muffins." Sam saw that the blonde himself was already munching on one and so the brunette reached into the bag and tasted one.

"Hey these are pretty good. Your mom make these?"

Dean's smile faltered only for a moment but long enough for Sam to notice. "Nah, I made 'em myself."

Sam almost choked on his muffin. He had so not imagined that Dean would be the baking type. And the muffin really was good.

"Oh, well…thanks."

The blonde just shrugged and sat down. He was feeling better today. His father hadn't come home at all last night so there had been no more drills, no fresh bruises. And Sam was smiling at him.

Dean didn't know why Sam was affecting him so much. The brunette was just so different from the people he usually hung out with, and, yeah, Sam was definitely attractive. Guess the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

But there was no way that anything could happen between them. Dean had known he was gay since forever…but his dad didn't. And his dad wouldn't know, **ever**.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam was watching Dean across the cafeteria. Jock boy was quite surprising. Looking at him Sam wouldn't know it though. Dean was beautiful and popular, surrounded by other enormous jocks and, of course, girls. One girl in particular was hanging all over him, Dean's latest girlfriend. She was a cheerleader, of course, and another in a long line of short, meaningless relationships as far as Sam could tell.

But after a week of tutoring sessions, Sam was no longer sure that Dean was only what he seemed. Sometimes Sam could see flashes of pain in the blonde's big green eyes. Not just the pain that caused Dean to wince when he moved sometimes, but something else, something more.

Sam saw it despite Dean's attempt to be constantly upbeat. The jock had a childish sense of humor but Sam found himself laughing anyway. For some reason, Sam found himself laughing a lot in Dean's presence, feeling light and at ease. It was almost as if Dean was trying to comfort _him_.

Sam was brought out of his thoughts when a large shadow fell across his face. Looking up, he was unsurprised to see the face of a very large, very stupid linebacker looking down at him with a sneer.

"What're you looking at? You got the hots for Deanie-boy?" The jock snorted. "Figures that you fairies would be wet for a _real man_…"

The teasing was interrupted when the larger teen was shoved forcefully out of Sam's face.

"Hey! Lay off, dude, that shit's not funny."

Sam almost gave himself whip-lash as he turned his head at the sound of Dean's now-familiar deep drawl.

"What's with you, Dean? He's a fag."

"I don't care what else he is, he's my tutor and I kinda need him, so **lay off**."

Sam was even more amazed when he felt Dean's hand grip his shoulder. Dean was defending him. Why?

They both watched as the burly teen left. Then Sam's attention returned to Dean, who had removed his hand, but was still looking at Sam and smiling.

"So Sammy…"

The brunette clenched his jaw to keep the smile off his lips. Dean, however, saw Sam's lips twitch and his own smile became wider in response.

"It's Sam…"

"There's this party tonight after the game at Brooke's place, thought you might like to come. You can bring your friends too." Dean added quickly, gesturing at Jess and the others at the table.

Sam answered quickly, maybe too quickly if the knowing light in Dean's eyes was any indication. "Sure. Uh…where is it?"

"Oh, here," Dean said as he reached over the table and picked up Sam's pen and notebook. He wrote down some directions quickly and then, as an afterthought, wrote down his cell number. "There, call me if you get lost or anything. See you there."

With a smile and a wave at the rest of the table Dean was gone, leaving Sam practically drooling after the blonde's rear view.

Dean smiled to himself as he walked away. He knew that Sam was watching and it was nice to know that the attraction wasn't one-sided. Dean knew that he was good-looking and he wasn't above using it. But he was like an Easter egg a week after the holiday, still beautiful on the outside but rotten in the middle.

Maybe he shouldn't have invited Sam to the party. It had been a spur of the moment decision. He had just wanted to help the guy out, make sure the guy had a little fun. But maybe Dean should stay away from Sam, leave the geek to his own, probably very happy, apple pie life. But maybe Dean couldn't help himself, couldn't help wanting a little happiness for himself.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: So thanks for all the reviews, I really love any comment on my stories, it really makes my day. I took out most of the references to hair color in this chapter in deference to c1's review. It was pretty tough, though. I do it because I hate to be like 'he does this and he does that, he, he, he' because that gets confusing but I hate to say their name's every five seconds. But I tried so hopefully this will be better._

Sam stood outside _Brooke's _house, watching the party through the windows.

"Come on," Jess nudged his shoulder to help her message across. "Let's go in."

Sam nodded but didn't step forward until the blonde girl laughed and grabbed his arm to pull him forward.

"Sam, what's the big deal?"

He simply shook his head. The _big deal_? The big deal was that Sam had a crush on a guy who was totally off-limits.

Jess's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Sam, he's just being nice. Don't read anything into it, you'll just end up hurt."

Sam nodded. He really was making too big a deal of this. Jess and he would go in there and actually have some fun and hopefully nobody would question why they were at the party.

Besides, Sam smiled to himself, if anybody hassled them, maybe Dean would just come to his rescue again.

When they entered the front door, the crowd of people seemed stifling. It was like a wall of heat and noise and people wandering about with plastic cups in their hands.

Sam's eyes flickered about the room, until they came to rest on Dean, striding over to them with two cups in his hands. Sam smiled in anticipation.

"Hey guys, glad you could make it. Oh, here, have a drink." Dean passed the two cups over to Sam and Jess. He did it just in time too, since a second later one of the other football players was attacking Dean with a monster hug.

"Dean," the teen slurred. "Great game, man."

"Hey, Riley…" Dean was interrupted when the teen holding onto him suddenly pitched forward. "Riley…?"

"Dude, I don't feel so hot…"

Dean spared a smile up at Sam and Jess before starting to lead the teen away, presumably to a bathroom. "Sorry guys, have fun!" He called behind him.

Sam watched him go with an odd sense of pride and when he turned to Jess, she was smiling up at him.

"I can see why you like him, Sam. He actually seems to be a really great guy."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Later, Dean slipped away from the commotion into one of the upstairs bedrooms. He had brought a bottle of Jack Daniels with him, half empty. He rarely drank, but after the game this afternoon, Dean was determined to have as much fun as possible before tomorrow. Because tomorrow he was really going to get it.

They had won the game, they always won, but Dean had thrown an interception. It hadn't made any difference to the score, the other team couldn't capitalize on his mistake, but that wouldn't matter to his father.

So yeah, Dean intended to get drunk tonight and he was well on his way there. He took a seat on the bed, getting comfortable because he really didn't want to be around people, even though they were his friends. Right, they didn't know anything about him. Dean was tired of having to hide all the time, who he was and what was going on.

He had just gotten comfortable when the door opened. Sam glanced in, looking for the bathroom, when he noticed that it was a bedroom and someone was in there.

"Sorry…Oh, Dean, it's you." Then the fact that the other teen was sitting alone in a darkened room sunk into Sam's brain, and he stepped fully into the room. "Hey what's up?"

Even in the dark, Sam could see that Dean smiled at that, but it was that fake smile that was so often on Dean's face when he was in the middle of a crowd. Then Dean got off the bed, walking noticeably unsteadily over to Sam.

"Hey Sammy," Dean's speech was also slurred. "Have a drink."

Sam took the bottle from Dean, but didn't drink from it. "No thanks, Dean." He did not tell the other teen that he had had enough though Sam wanted to. Sam knew that to a drunken person that would just be a cue to become belligerent. He simply set the bottle aside.

Dean took a step closer and stumbled, Sam reaching out to catch the shorter teen.

"Dean, really, are you ok?"

Dean just laughed, an oddly distressed sound to Sam's ears, almost more like a sob. Unconsciously, Sam held Dean a little tighter, pulled the other teen a little closer.

Dean stilled, the reality of their physical proximity suddenly penetrating his addled brain. Tilting his face upwards, he looked into Sam's eyes before gripping the other teen's head and pulling the brunette down into a kiss.

Sam was stunned, but responded immediately. It was exactly what he had wanted and he couldn't help his own hands going around the other teen's waist. Dean's lips were soft and he was warm and more pliant than Sam had thought he would be. Dean smelled of musk and spice and…alcohol.

That was when Sam came to his senses. Dean didn't know what he was doing, he was drunk. Sam had to stop this, as much as he didn't want to, he didn't want Dean to hate him later.

Gently, he lifted his hands up to grip Dean's biceps and pushed the shorter teen away. They were still close, close enough for Sam to clearly see the pain and rejection in Dean's wide eyes.

"No, Dean, I want you. If you still want this, try it again when you're sober."

The blonde teen must have understood, because Dean nodded and then stepped back. Sam felt wrong leaving Dean alone in the room and drunk, but he knew he needed to distance himself from Dean. If Dean made another move on him, Sam didn't think that he would be able to turn it down a second time.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was freaking out. It was Monday morning and Sam was waiting in the small study room, waiting for Dean. He wondered if Dean would even show and if he did, whether he would beat the shit out of Sam.

He watched as Dean strode toward the room. The jock didn't look mad enough to kill, though Dean was walking slowly, stiffly like he had torn something.

Standing as Dean came into the room, Sam was practically blinded by the brightness of the other teen's smile. Before he had even wrapped his mind around that, though, Dean was moving towards him, gripping the back of Sam's head just as he had done that night and kissing the taller teen.

It didn't last nearly as long as Sam wanted it to. Then Dean pulled back, but stayed inside Sam's personal space. The confusion and _want _must have shown on Sam's face judging by Dean's next words.

"You said to kiss you again when I was sober. Well, I'm sober."

Dean kissed him again, but this time it was Sam who pulled back after a long moment.

"We still need to study." Sam thought it was adorable how Dean's face fell at those words and so he quickly continued. "Wanna come over to my house after practice?"

Dean smiled and stole one last kiss before they sat down at the table again. On opposite sides of the table for good measure.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean rang the doorbell of a pale yellow two-story house in a disturbingly Norman Rockwell-like neighborhood. He couldn't believe that he was doing this, but he was done, done giving up everything that he wanted. He did everything his father wanted and the man still was never happy. So Dean was going to have something that made him happy and that something was Sam.

And Sam really did make Dean happy. They didn't even know each other all that well, but Dean had never felt anything like their kiss that morning. And now he felt like butterflies were trying to climb up his throat as he waited what he thought was an inordinately long time, even for a house that size.

Finally the door opened, to reveal a cute blonde girl maybe two years younger than Sam.

"Hey, Dean. Come on in," the girl said smiling widely and obviously checking him out. Dean lifted an eyebrow in amusement before focusing on the shouting coming from somewhere further inside the house.

Sighing, the girl shut the door and led him towards the sound, which turned out to be coming from the kitchen. Dean was stunned at the sight before him. Sam was across the kitchen island from his father and they were both yelling.

Dean would never, ever yell at his father. Always trying to be a good son, Dean followed all of John's orders. Fascinated, he listened to what they were fighting about.

"Sam, all I said was maybe being part of a team would be good for you."

"Dad, I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I am not interested in sports. I do not want to go out for soccer or any other sport! Why can't you be happy that I'm interested in school?!"

"I am happy for you, but I just want you to be well-rounded, to get some exercise, make some friends…"

Suddenly they noticed that someone else was in the room. Dean smiled sheepishly and readjusted his backpack.

Sam took a deep breath before walking closer to Dean.

"Dad, this is Dean, the football quarterback I'm tutoring. I'm sure his dad is very proud of him." Sam spoke with venom dripping from his lips.

Dean felt distinctly out of place, but stepped forward to offer his hand to the older man. He was certain that his father was not, in fact, proud of him. After shaking hands, Sam led them up the stairs.

Upstairs, Sam was having difficulty calming down after his fight with his dad, but he didn't want to make Dean any more uncomfortable.

"Sorry about that."

"Nah, dads…what are you gonna do?"

Sam scoffed. "Yeah I'm sure your dad's real upset with you, life as a football star has gotta be tough. What with all the guys at school looking up to you and the girls fawning over you and the teachers letting you get away with everything…"

Dean's smile felt wrong on his face. "Yeah, well if teachers let me get away with everything, why do I need you?"

Sam smiled, a real smile then. "Well I'm glad that you do need me."

Dean smiled back, backing the taller teen into the wall. "You are, huh?" He questioned teasingly before claiming the other teen's lips in a kiss.

That kiss quickly became more passionate than any of the preceding. And then Sam was pushing Dean's jacket off and lifting the hem of his t-shirt.

Sam gasped at what was revealed beneath Dean's long-sleeved shirt. The blonde's entire chest was a sheet of black, one huge bruise. Sam hadn't thought that Dean had been hit during Friday's game.

Dean was supremely uncomfortable, holding his bunched up t-shirt against his chest as if that would hide the bruises. Frankly he had forgotten all about them in the heat of the moment, but now he felt self-conscious. With girls it had been different, they had thought of them as a kind of 'war wound', just signs that he was a great player.

But the way Sam was looking at him, like Dean was precious and fragile, unexpectedly caused tears to prick at the back of Dean's eyes. When Sam kissed him again, Dean lost himself in it, letting Sam take the lead and push him back toward the bed.

Sam kept his hands gentle as they roamed over Dean's back. He had been right, Dean was so much more than what he seemed. The shorter teen was hesitant, almost demure and Dean seemed in such need of comfort.

Dean's hands were removing Sam's own shirt as Sam reached for the tab on Dean's jeans. Dropping the blonde's pants and boxers to the floor only revealed more bruising and Sam carefully pressed Dean onto the bed. Sam was moving down Dean's body, toward Dean's erect sex when Dean stopped him with hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Wait. Undress, I want to see you."

Sam smiled as he stood up, dropping his own pants before covering Dean's naked body with his own. Dean's arms were pulling Sam close as they kissed again, but Sam must have pressed too hard on the bruises covering Dean's chest as the teen groaned and not in bliss, turning his head away.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean's smile was a little sad when he turned back, but his words were consoling. "Nothing to worry about, Sammy."

Sam decided he liked it when Dean called him that during sex. He began to head southward again, but again Dean stopped him.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

Fortunately there weren't any bruises there and Sam gripped the base of Dean's cock and sucked lightly on the head. When Dean groaned, this time it was in pleasure.

Sam's tongue followed the vein down and then back up before swirling it around the tip. Dean bent his knees instinctually, allowing Sam to have more room as he started a relentless rhythm.

Dean bit his lower lip to stifle the noises that threatened to erupt from his throat and tried desperately not to thrust his hips into that inviting heat. Sam laid a light and hopefully soothing hand on Dean's belly to steady the other teen, his other hand jerking his own sex. Sam came moments before Dean was warning him of Dean's own impending climax.


	5. Chapter 5

Three months later, they were again in Sam's bedroom, Sam kneeling between Dean's spread legs again as the blonde lay on the bed. This time while he was sucking on Dean's sex, Sam was gently inserting a spit-slickened finger into the blonde's rectum. Sam had never done this with anyone, but he desperately wanted to with Dean. And the way Dean was thrashing on the bed, holding Sam's pillow to his face to muffle the cries was encouraging, allowing Sam to hope that soon it would be his cock inside Dean. He wanted Dean to be his first and he wanted it to be special.

It had been a wonderful three months. Sam hadn't thought that he and Dean would have that much in common, and maybe they didn't, but they just fit. Sam had continued Dean's tutorage and Dean's Algebra grade had improved, allowing the blonde to continue playing football. They spent all of their free time outside of school, the little that Dean had, together, and usually at Sam's house.

It wasn't like Dean ignored Sam during school either. Dean hadn't come out and told everyone that they were seeing each other, but Dean did talk to him at school and the jock had stopped dating anyone else.

Sam hadn't expected Dean to come out. Dean was on all kinds of sports teams and Sam knew how disastrous it would be to Dean's place on those teams if he told everyone he was gay. Besides they were both seniors, soon they would go to college and Sam was hoping that they would end up there together. At a new college, where nobody knew them…Sam hoped that they could openly be a couple.

They were laying there after, after Dean had orgasmed with a cry and then returned the favor. In three months, Dean had also become quite comfortable giving Sam a blowjob. Dean was on his back and Sam on his side, gently running his hand down the blonde's chest, careful of the ever-present bruises.

"Hey I heard the there would be some scouts from Chapel Hill at the game on Friday."

Dean shifted uncomfortably so that he could look Sam in the eye.

"Yeah, you know, UNC is really close to Duke, where I'm applying. Maybe you could meet with the guy after the game."

"Sam, Chapel Hill is hours away from here. I can't go that far."

Sam sat up to look down at the other teen. "What do you mean?"

"I have to stay here, Sam, with my dad. He'd never allow me to go that far away."

Sam was stunned. He couldn't stay here and go to the local college. Sam had worked his whole life to get into a good school. And why did Dean work so hard if he didn't care about the recruiters?

"But here nothing will change, Dean. We'll still have to hide."

Dean sat up, but wouldn't look Sam in the eye. "I know Sam. And one day, God, one day I want to leave here and never look back, but my dad…"

"What, you can't do anything without your dad's permission, Dean?!"

"Sam, you don't understand, he needs me."

"And you're not going to tell him about us. You are such a coward."

With that Dean stood up, quickly locating his clothes and getting dressed. He didn't speak to Sam. He was so angry, but like all the other times that Dean was angry or sad or felt anything, he kept silent.

Sam didn't speak either, didn't even look at Dean as the teen started to leave. He was too upset and he didn't want to say anything that he'd regret.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -

Dean paced the floor of his living room, waiting for his dad to come home. He was supposed to run drills tonight, John had been thinking that Dean's throwing arm seemed a little weak.

But his mind was definitely not on the drills. How could Sam call him a coward? Sam didn't know anything about fear. He didn't know what it was to be afraid all the time, afraid in his own home, afraid that someone would find out, afraid of his own _father_.

Crap, he was a coward. His dad was the only person Dean cared about, that Dean loved and he would do anything for the man. He had followed every order that John had ever given, not wanting to disappoint his father, wanting his Dad to love and be proud of him, wanting to make his father happy.

But now there was Sam, and Dean wanted just as badly to make Sammy happy. And Sam made Dean happy and Dean couldn't give that up. He was going to have to tell his dad.

Just then, the door slammed open, heralding his father's arrival. Dean steeled himself and walked forward.

John didn't even meet his son's eyes as he threw down his tool bag and lunch pail and then collapsed onto the easy chair. Out of habit, Dean went to the fridge, retrieving a beer which he opened and placed in his father's outstretched hand.

"What's for dinner? Need to hurry up so we can get to the park…"

John trailed off as he realized his son was not, in fact, busy finishing up dinner or bringing it to him or any of the domestic duties that Dean took care of.

He turned, meeting those green eyes as he so seldom did these days because he hated seeing the pain and uncertainty there.

"What's with you, Dean? I said…"

"We have to talk. I…I have something to say."

John stood then, moving to stand in front of his son, knowing that his additional height and bulk were intimidating the teen.

Dean took a deep breath, not thinking about what he was about to do, what he was going to say, just speaking as if on autopilot. "I'm gay and I'm…seeing someone. His name's Sam and I want…"

The backhand that struck Dean's right cheek was as painful as it was expected. He kept his face averted for a second as he took a deep breath through the pain. When he lifted his face again, he didn't get a chance to speak, though. The second blow caused Dean to stumble several steps back into the living room.

This time when he lifted his face, the distance between them allowed Dean to time to speak again. "And I'm not going to stop."

After that the blows became continuous. Punches landed on his face and stomach and lower back until Dean collapsed. He was falling towards the floor and then there was nothing but darkness.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam stood outside a small rundown house later that night. He felt unsafe just driving through this neighborhood, much less standing out there. This was the first time that Sam had ever been to Dean's house, though he hadn't realized that until just now.

He knocked and waited. And waited. He was about to leave when he heard what sounded like a pain-filled moan.

Sam moved to the window just to the right of the door. He felt like a fool but he had to have a look inside to make sure that Dean was ok. What he saw appalled him. Sam could see Dean lying on the floor in what appeared to be the living room, and there was blood on his face.

Moving quickly back to the door, Sam tried to turn the knob, shocked when it opened under his hand.

"Dean," Sam ran to the teen's side. Dean was trying to push himself up off the carpet with little success. Blood was still running down his face from a cut above Dean's right temple and blood was also pooled on the edge of the coffee table. Sam assumed that Dean had hit his head there.

But that wasn't all. The left side of Dean's face was already swollen and there was also blood running from Dean's nose and lips. And Dean was curled in on himself like he was protecting his belly, making Sam think of broken ribs or even worse, internal bleeding. This hadn't been an accident. Dean had been attacked.

"Dean, don't try to move," Sam's voice shook when he spoke. Sam reached out a hand to Dean's shoulder, sobbing when Dean flinched from his touch and whimpered.

"Dean, it's me. It's Sam."

Dean lifted his face up then and tried to focus on Sam's face. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me."

Dean tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace and a coughing fit, spraying droplets of blood onto Sam's shirt.

"I told him, I told Dad…about us."

"Your father did this? Dean, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't, Sammy. It's fine."

Sam sobbed again, but nodded, knowing that this wasn't the time for talking. "Dean, I'm going to call for help, ok?"

"No! Sam, I'm fine, don't…don't call anyone. No one…no one can know."

Sam had already started toward the phone on the kitchen wall, so he wasn't there to stop Dean when he pushed himself up off the floor. Dean stood there swaying, trying to talk, to tell Sam to leave him. He didn't want Sam to see him like this, to _know_ what had happened.

Sam rushed forward when Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and his knees sagged. Before Dean hit the floor, Sam caught the shorter teen, lowering Dean to the ground.

"Dean," Sam's voice was louder and more agitated now. He cradled Dean's head in his lap and lightly tapped the less blemished cheek.

"Dean!" Sam was practically screaming now because Dean wasn't waking up. Seeing no other option, Sam maneuvered the other teen to lie on the floor so he could stand up and go to the phone again.

"Yes I need an ambulance…"


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Wow, I am beyond amazed that I magically guessed William's name, I just figured William was a pretty common name. Anyway thanks so much for sticking with this and reviewing!_

Sam was pacing in the hospital waiting room when his parents got there. He had followed the ambulance in his own car. Dean had been taken straight into surgery to fix internal bleeding caused by a broken rib. It had gone well but it was the head injury that the doctors were really worried about. Dean had gone into a coma because of the swelling of his brain. There was nothing to do but wait and see if it went down.

Dean was being settled into a room when Sam's parents came right up to the tall teen and they both gave Sam a hug.

It was Sam's father who spoke first, wanting to put things right with his son, needing to let Sam know that he was here for the boy. William had been so scared when the hospital had phoned him, so frightened that it was Sam that had been hurt.

William had never thought less of his son for being a brainiac, or for being gay. He just wanted the best for Sam. He wanted things to be easy for his son and being gay in a world full of intolerance wasn't easy. All he had to do to confirm that was to think of the young man they had come to see, lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It sickened William to think of a child being hurt like that, having to endure that for years.

He held his son in his arms while Ellen stroked the teen's back. It was then that he saw the police talking to a rough looking man with gray hair and a beard. He assumed that the man was Dean's father when he listened to their conversation. Unfortunately, Sam noticed his attention had wandered and turned to look himself with tear filled eyes.

"John, this time we have to take you in. We've looked the other way too many times before…"

"I just need to see my son first…" The man's voice was a growl.

"I think you've done enough…"

"I **need **to see him!"

"Fine, just for a second."

Sam watched as _John_ entered Dean's room. He could see what the man was doing in there through the slits in the blinds.

John stood by his son's hospital bed, looking down at the boy lying there. He moved his hand, wanting to stroke Dean's arm, but he was afraid to touch his son. It had been years since John had touched Dean not in anger.

Dean looked so much like his mother. That was really why John pushed the boy so hard, why he pushed Dean away. Dean was so sensitive, such a caring child that just wanted to take care of everyone, even John, even after everything that John had done. He wanted Dean to be ready for the harsh realities of the world.

John had just been so angry with the boy. He had been angry that Dean had been keeping secrets, that there was something about his son that John hadn't known. But he had been angrier that Dean was in love, that his son had found what John had lost all those years ago.

He left then with the officers, without touching his son.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam was livid that John had been allowed to see Dean. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that the man hadn't touched the blonde or even angrier. Dean was his son, how could he?

Sam went into Dean's room, his parents following behind. Dean looked so small in the bed, so still. What did John see when he looked at his son? Did the man see how fragile Dean was, how special and beautiful and wonderful?

Turning away, Sam started to cry again, choking back a sob. Unexpectedly, or so it seemed to Sam, his father was there to hold him again.

"I should have seen it, Dad, I should have known. He always had so many bruises, more bruises than even a football player should have. And some of the bruises were obviously boot shaped or a hand with a ring on it…"

"Sam, there was nothing you could have done. Dean obviously didn't want you to know. He was probably scared, hell, he probably thought he was protecting you."

They stood that way for a long time, Sam taking the comfort that his father offered and both feeling like it had been far too long.

"Sammy, I reckon."

Startled, both Sam and his father turned at the sound of a new voice in the room. It was another older gentleman in a baseball cap looking like he had just crawled out from underneath a car.

"Dean talks about you a lot," the man continued.

"Who are you?"

"A friend of Dean's father. Name's Bobby."

Sam's hackles were immediately raised. "Did you know about this?" he accused. "Did you know what Dean was going through?"

Bobby rubbed a hand over his face, a familiar gesture to those who knew him. "Yeah I knew. I've known for a long time. Ya know, I must've asked Dean a hundred times to move in with me over the years, but the stubborn mule always refused. Said his daddy needed him."

Sam watched as the man moved towards the bed. Bobby touched Dean without hesitation, the back of his knuckles stroking across the blonde's forehead. Then the man took a seat in the chair by the bed and gripped Dean's hand.

The taller teen moved around the bed to another chair as Bobby started to talk again. It was almost as if Bobby needed to talk about Dean, needed to tell others of the boy's wonderful qualities that nobody ever got to see.

And Sam, for his part, was entranced by the stories of Dean's childhood. Dean had never spoken about his childhood or his father to Sam though Sam had told the other teen everything about his own life.

"That boy's a better son than John deserved, that's for sure. Dean's been picking up the slack ever since his momma died. Mary's death just broke John, ya know? Dean was four at the time. The boy just stopped talking for four months. Still, Dean tried to take care of John. He'd come up to his father when John was sitting in the recliner feeling sorry for himself. Dean would hand John a granola bar without a word, reminding his daddy to eat."

Bobby shook his head. "Poor kid was traumatized. They both saw Mary die in a freak accident."

The man stopped talking for a minute, obviously choking back tears. "Dean saved me, you see. My wife…died too, years ago, but Dean…just keeping an eye out for the kid, seeing what he went through and he still managed to keep a smile on his face, well, it gave me strength. I didn't see any bruises on the boy until Dean was eight, but he did Pee-Wee Football…But then I saw John making the boy run drills like Dean was in the majors instead of a little boy. That's when I knew."

Sam was crying openly by the time Bobby paused in his speech.

"God, I feel like I don't know him at all."

Bobby fixed Sam with a hard knowing stare. "Don't doubt that he cares for you, Sam. That's just how Dean is, another thing you can blame on his daddy. John was always 'don't cry', 'suck it up', and 'emotion is weakness'. He just didn't want you to worry about him, to feel sorry for him."

"You knew…about us?"

Bobby nodded, a small smile turning his lips upwards. "Not that he told me, but the way he spoke about you, the smile on his face and the look in his eye…Mary used to look the same when she looked at John."

Sam's father was looking from his son to the other man and back again. "Sam, you were seeing Dean? As in dating?"

Sam nodded before bursting into a fresh round of tears. "He didn't want his dad to know and I told him…I told him that he was a coward."

Bobby dropped his head to his chest while William started rubbing Sam's back again. They all knew how deep that barb had hit.

"You didn't know, Sam," his father whispered. "I'm sure he'll understand…"

"If he wakes up," Sam sobbed.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a week since Sam had found Dean beaten half to death in his own home. Sam had come to the hospital every day since, sometimes to sit with Dean for hours and sometimes just a few minutes, but he just had to see the other teen, to make sure Dean was still breathing.

More often than not Bobby had been there each time Sam had come. The other man rarely left Dean's bedside, reading a magazine or watching the television. And sometimes Sam would see him stroking a hand through Dean's hair or just hanging onto Dean's hand as if also reminding himself that Dean was still there.

The football team had been there, and the basketball team and the baseball team. Hell, most of the school had turned out at one point or another. Sam wished that Dean knew how many people cared for him.

It had been a week when Dean woke up. The actual event was rather anticlimactic. Both Sam and Bobby had just been sitting by the bed when Dean started to shift restlessly. And then he just opened his eyes.

Sam stood up immediately, hovering over the other teen.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

"Sit down, boy, and give Dean a minute to breathe." Bobby's voice stunned Sam, he had forgotten all about the other man, but he heeded the advice and stepped back.

Dean's long eyelashes fluttered against his pale and bruised cheeks for a moment before opening fully. Sam waited with baited breath until the green eyes focused on his face.

Dean tried to speak, but it only resulted in a fit of coughing because his throat was so dry. Bobby was there with a cup of water and a straw.

Looking from one face to the other, Dean tried to remember why exactly Bobby and Sam were there and staring at him. He also felt like shit, but Dean figured he knew why that was. Then he realized he was in the hospital.

That freaked him out, he hated the hospital. There were always too many questions. Even when he was there legitimately for a sports injury, the doctors were always asking about this bruise or that cut that looked suspicious.

Then Dean remembered what had happened. He remembered Sam calling him a coward, telling his father, the rage on his father's face, so much more anger than normal, and more pain than ever before.

Sam saw the sudden fear come over Dean's face and knew that Dean remembered. But seeing Dean's fear didn't take away Sam's relief that Dean _remembered_, that Dean even recognized them.

"Whoa there, boy. Just settle back, Dean." Bobby pushed lightly against the teen's chest trying to get Dean to relax against the pillows again.

"Dad…" Dean managed to choke out.

Bobby sighed while Sam turned away in revulsion. How could Dean even ask about that bastard? Why did Dean still care?

"Sam _had_ to call the ambulance, Dean. You've been in a coma for a week."

Sam's eyes were filled with tears when he turned back to look at Dean who was staring quizzically back. Their gazes held for a long moment before Dean's eyes became filled with shame and he turned back to look at Bobby.

"John almost killed you, boy! They booked him."

Dean dropped his eyes to the blanket and shook his head. Bobby knew what the teen was trying to say.

"I know, Dean. He'll be getting out because you're not going to testify, but dammit, you're not going back to that house. You're coming home with me."

Dean basically collapsed back on the bed, his head rolling to the side to evade both sets of eyes. Sam couldn't keep quiet anymore.

"Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't think…I didn't know…"

Dean wouldn't look at him.

"Dean, **please**, don't hate me." Sam's voice was a pathetic plea.

That got a reaction. Dean turned wide agonized eyes on him.

"Sammy…I don't hate you…I hate _this_." He made a helpless gesture with his hands, as if trying to encompass everything with that one word.

Sam sat back down on the chair and grasped Dean's hand, feeling relieved. That feeling only lasted a moment, though, as Dean jerked his hand away, suddenly angry.

"Don't," Dean hissed. "How can you stand to touch me?! Get out! Both of you, get out."

Shaking hands lifted to cover Dean's face and the tears that had welled in green eyes.

Sam moved his chair closer to the bed, not wanting to stand up and tower over the obviously distraught teen but wanting to be close all the same.

He assumed that he spoke for Bobby too when he said, "Dean, we're not going anywhere."

Dean raised eyes that had not allowed any tears to fall. "Why do you care? My own father hates me…I did everything he ever asked. I gave him everything I had…"

He shook his head then as if trying to dispel those thoughts.

Bobby stepped forward then. "Dean, this is John's fault, not yours. It didn't matter what you did, John just…couldn't see past his own pain. It was never your fault."

Dean dropped his head a little, staring at his hands as they lay on the blanket. Finally he nodded.

Then Dean turned his head to look at Sam. "Why are you here? You didn't exactly sign up for this, I'll understand if you don't…"

Sam just couldn't stop touching Dean, so he reached again for Dean's hand. This time Dean didn't pull away but Sam could feel the stiffness in Dean's entire body just from the hand that he touched.

"I couldn't leave you, baby. I don't want to."

Immediately, Dean's lips twitched and then he broke into a full-out smile.

"Baby?" he queried.

Sam smiled too before quickly averting his own eyes by looking downward. He hadn't exactly meant to say that, the word had just come out. It wasn't that he didn't mean it, Sam certainly thought that way about Dean, felt like protecting the other teen and possessing him. But Sam didn't particularly feel like being ridiculed, or told by Dean that things weren't that serious between them.

Then his gaze fell upon their interlocked hands. Whatever Dean's words were saying, Dean's body was definitely holding on.

Lifting his gaze to Dean's green eyes that were both amused and embarrassed, Sam answered in a light voice, "**My **baby." He gave Dean's hand a squeeze.

And to Sam's amazement, though Dean's voice was just as light, his eyes were serious. "Yeah?"

All the humor left Sam then and he answered in all seriousness, "Yeah."

They stared at one another, before the glint of amusement reappeared in Dean's eyes, and frankly, Sam was glad to see it. It said more about Dean's state of mind that gushing confessions.

"Possessive much?" Dean bantered.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: So I let my inner sap run wild on this one, but Sam is one character that I can totally see acting like this._

It was the night of prom, the day after Sam and Dean had graduated from high school. Sam led a bewildered Dean along the hotel corridor to the room he had booked for them. It had been one helluva year.

Dean had had to stay in the hospital for another three days before they had let him out. The teen had practically been climbing the walls by then.

John had come by. He'd been released after Dean had given his statement that he had no idea what had attacked him. John had told Dean that he was going to rehab, that it was a good idea for them to be apart for a while. But he had promised to come back.

Dean had taken the news silently, like an obedient son. He had been quiet the rest of the day, but soon was back to joking and complaining, covering his pain with smiles.

Bobby had been great. His house was a wreck and his yard filled with wrecked cars, but Dean loved learning to work on the cars. Bobby loved Dean and Dean, for all that he pined for his father, loved and respected Bobby.

They'd both been nervous when Dean went back to school. Everyone had known what had happened; that Dean's father had beat him and not just that one time. They also knew why.

Dean hadn't seemed to care much about people knowing that he and Sam were together. It hurt him to see the looks of pity everyone gave him, however.

That didn't last long, though. Dean went back to football and he was even better than before. He was stronger and faster and more focused since he wasn't tired and sore and bruised any more.

Soon that was all anyone saw: an impressive athlete with a ready smile and a wicked sense of humor, who charmed his way into and out of trouble on a weekly basis, a good kid who had triumphed over a difficult childhood.

Sam pulled a giggling, that's right, giggling Dean into the hotel room. Bobby had helped him with the idea and set up a few things in the room. Sam had wanted it to be special. He pulled back the hotel bedspread and then pushed Dean down onto the bed.

Dean gasped as he was pressed down into the mattress by Sam's larger form. Sam no longer had to worry about hurting the other teen and he took full advantage of that fact, grinding down into Dean.

Sitting up to kneel over Dean, Sam reached over to the bedside table and picked up the rose that Bobby had left there. At the sight of it, Dean turned an adorable shade of red.

"Sammy, you shouldn't have. Really, you shouldn't have."

Sam laughed softly. Dean had already been embarrassed that night when he had been named the prom king. Sam could only hope that someone had gotten a picture of Dean's face in that moment.

He leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's plush lips and then sat back up. The red of the rose was a stark contrast to the paleness of the skin of Dean's cheek and Dean's eyes were emerald in comparison.

"I love you, Dean, and I want to make love with you."

Dean visibly swallowed, looking up with wide vulnerable eyes, but Sam didn't give the other teen any chance to respond before he was kissing Dean again. Sam didn't want Dean to say the words because he felt obligated to, and so he took away the pressure for Dean to respond.

Besides, Sam had further plans for this evening.

Sitting up again, Sam stripped off his shirt. Dean put his hands up to caress the smoothness of Sam's belly immediately, as if drawn by a magnet. His thumb ruffled the line of hair there.

Dean sat up obligingly as Sam removed his shirt. Then Sam was nipping at his lips before pushing him down and moving to his jaw and then his earlobe, sucking it lightly before grazing his teeth along it. Dean's moan was a whisper along Sam's cheek and Sam smiled.

With one hand, he was tipping Dean's head back, exposing the blonde's throat to Sam's avid kisses. Sam sucked on Dean's neck but not hard enough to bruise. Sam never wanted to see bruises on Dean again.

The other hand was pushing Dean's left arm up above the teen's head. Switching his attentions, Sam ran his tongue over and then nipped at the sensitive skin along the clearly delineated bicep. Dean moaned again, louder this time and tossed his head to the side.

Sam repeated the action on the other arm with the same result before moving down Dean's arm to his chest. He nipped the curve of Dean's pec muscle but conspicuously avoided the other teen's nipples until Dean was arching under him and into him, wanting that touch. Sam slid his right arm under the curve of Dean's back, holding the other teen in the arch as he lowered his lips to the right nipple, first licking lightly and then drawing the nub into his mouth and sucking.

Gasping, the tendons in his neck taut with strain, Dean thrust his hips against Sam's weight, searching for that needed friction, but Sam's other hand was there, pushing Dean's hips back to the mattress.

Dean worked his throat convulsively and fisted the sheet as if trying to hold on while Sam worked him over. Finally Sam moved down, pressing moist kisses to the flat abdomen. Dean panted as Sam's mouth neared the waist band of his jeans. Dean knew well how that mouth felt around his cock and he was eager to reacquaint himself with the feeling.

Dean groaned in frustration when Sam pulled away, but the other teen simply smiled down as he stood up to strip off both his own and Dean's pants and boxers. Dean sat up then, loving the sight of Sam and wanting to touch. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around what Sam saw in him, particularly now that Sam knew everything but Dean wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

Sam got back onto the bed but he only gave Dean's mouth a quick kiss before reaching over to get something from the bedside table. He looked searchingly into Dean's eyes as he held up a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Dean…"

"I want to, Sam. I want this with you."

For a moment it was Dean taking the lead, pulling Sam's head down into an ardent kiss and running his hands over every patch of skin that he could reach. Dean had had sex before, but never like this. It wasn't even about being on the 'bottom', it was about Dean loving Sam enough that he let Sam take control, trusting Sam enough to let himself be taken care of.

It wasn't long before Sam was pulling back, taking over again as he pushed Dean's legs back into his chest.

In Dean's wide green eyes, Sam could see such trust and openness, more than he thought Dean would ever show and it made Sam pray that he was worthy of it. Flipping open the cap of lube, Sam coated one finger liberally before pressing it to Dean's entrance.

Dean jumped at his touch. Sam held perfectly still in response until he heard Dean chuckle a little breathlessly.

"Cold," Dean said in explanation.

Sam smiled then and pressed in, encouraged when Dean bit his full lower lip in response. Bending his head to Dean's sex, Sam worked the finger in and out slowly until he could slide it all the way in. Then he added another.

Dean gasped at the larger intrusion, but then made no other sounds so Sam continued to prepare the other teen. When the digits were sliding in and out, more or less easily, Sam lifted his mouth from Dean's cock and opened the condom wrapper. He was acutely aware of Dean's eyes on him as Sam unrolled the condom over his own sex. Then he whispered, "Turn over."

Their eyes met before Dean complied, turning onto his stomach and spreading his thighs slightly. Sam immediately covered Dean's body with his own, not wanting Dean to feel alone or exposed in any way during this.

Sam leaned on his left hand as he positioned his own cock at Dean's entrance with his right. He was surprised when Dean covered his hand with Dean's own, intertwining their fingers.

Pushing in, Sam was overwhelmed by the tightness. It was difficult just to press the head of his cock inside Dean's body and Sam moaned at the sensation.

Dean hadn't made any noise or movements, so Sam pulled out a little and pressed in farther. That time Dean grunted in something resembling pain.

"Dean…?"

"Keep going, Sammy."

It hurt just a little but Dean was determined. He wanted this, he just needed to relax. Taking a deep and slightly shaky breath, Dean felt Sam's forehead come to rest against his shoulder. That helped to relax him and Sam slipped in a little deeper, drawing a groan from Dean's lips.

Sam moved, getting up slightly onto his knees for better leverage. Dean moaned as the change in position put more direct pressure on his prostate. Pressing in again, Sam tried to hit the same spot and was apparently successfully. His cock was sliding all the way in now and Sam was transfixed at the sight of being joined so intimately to Dean.

Dean had spread his legs wider. "Harder. Oh God, Sammy, harder!" Dean's voice was a cry.

Sam's voice was a low whisper close to Dean's ear, "Anything, Dean. Anything."

Dean shuddered in response. Sam's arms had gone fully around the other teen, pressing them tightly back to chest as Sam thrust deeper and harder, gaining speed as he became more comfortable.

Dean had gotten partially to his knees as well, pressing back into Sam's thrusts. Sam began stroking Dean's sex with his lubricant coated hand. Faster and faster, harder and harder, until Dean came with a cry of "Sammy, Fuck!", Dean's muscles becoming rigid, his back arching and his head thrown back.

Sam felt the warmth flood over his fist as he continued to thrust into Dean's body as it became lax, Dean's upper body coming to rest again on the bed. Sam's breath was hot as he panted against Dean's neck until he finally came with a choked groan, squeezing Dean perhaps painfully in his arms.

Thrusting lazily a few more times, Sam breathed, "God, baby, that was…"

Sam shook his head. He didn't have words. Gripping the base of the condom, Sam carefully pulled out. Dean had collapsed face first.

Sam pulled the condom off his softening member and leaned over the side of the bed to throw it in the trash can conveniently placed there. He also picked up the rose that had fallen off the bed before straightening back up.

Trailing the flower over Dean's back caused the blonde to shiver and then turn over onto his back. Sam threw a leg over Dean's and stroked the red petals over Dean's reddened lips before he gave in to temptation and rubbed his finger against them.

Dean grabbed his hand and kissed it before looking into Sam's eyes.

"Sammy…" Dean's voice was gruff and Sam thought it sounded like a man who had been well-fucked. That thought made Sam smile and he leaned over to kiss Dean's lips before the other teen could continue.

When Sam pulled back Dean was looking at him and there was so much in that gaze. There was such pain, and such love, and a plea for Sam to understand what Dean was trying to say when he didn't have the words either.

"I love you."

Sam had seen how difficult those words had been for Dean. He wished that things had been different, that things had been easier for Dean so that Dean would understand his own emotions, that Dean could comprehend how much he was loved, that Dean could believe how much he deserved that love.

But if things had been different then Dean wouldn't be the person that he was. Besides, Sam had plenty of time now to convince Dean. Sam had gotten a full ride to Duke on an academic scholarship and Dean had been recruited by UNC Chapel Hill. They would be together still and hopefully for a long time to come.

Sam knew that Dean normally slept on his stomach and so he wrapped his arms around Dean and rolled them so that Sam was on his back with Dean lying on top, his head on Sam's shoulder. Hopefully this would be the first night of many more to come.

_Author's Note: So…did y'all like it?_


	9. All Tangled Up CH 1

Sequel to Another Teenage Drama, the two boys are together but in two different but nearby schools. Unfortunately the course of true love never did run smooth…

Sam is loving the challenge of college while Dean struggles being away from home. In this one I wanted to more fully explore John and Dean's relationship and how it has affected Dean for the rest of his life. Some of you are going to be pissed because I still didn't make Sam the perfect boyfriend, but hopefully y'all will think that at least his reactions are realistic for someone in his predicament.

Again I'm trying to incorporate and mirror aspects of the show in this AU

Dean changes quickly in the locker room after football practice. He doesn't even bother with a shower. Being an openly gay player at college has been mostly fine, but he doesn't want to push his luck if he can just shower at his dorm.

He turns to get his pads off the bench behind him and finds his face abruptly meeting the open door of his locker. Spinning around, Dean is unsurprised to see it was Dustin who pushed him. The guy is one of the exceptions to his 'mostly fine' experience.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, faggot," the other boy harshly whispers.

Dean grits his teeth to keep his mouth shut. There's no point in starting anything. In a large group of testosterone charged boys barely out of high school, there's bound to be a couple of bigots. Besides Coach already gave the team the 'don't pick on the queer speech' and Dean doesn't want to seem like a pansy who can't handle himself.

Things at college in general haven't been great. Technically, school has been going on for a month, but Dean had to be there a month early for football camp. He loves football but the pressure of college sports has been intense. Everyone at college was the star of their high school team. Its enough to make Dean nostalgic for his dad's training techniques…

Being homesick is another of Dean's problems with college life. He still hasn't heard anything from his dad, he doesn't even know if John is still in rehab because of the whole patient confidentiality thing.

It's strange. Dean's the one who left home but he feels…abandoned. He's always had someone to take care of. Even when he went to live with Bobby, he felt useful. He hadn't known about Bobby's wife until after he got out of the hospital, but it made Dean feel like he was more than just an uninvited houseguest.

And he helped Bobby. It wasn't like Dean is a clean freak by any stretch of the imagination but he cooks better than Bobby does, and they did the dishes together and fixed up cars in the yard together. Bobby had always gone to all of his games and now…now there was nobody to watch or care.

Dean didn't even get to play in the games yet. Their quarterback was a senior and the coach was still starting him, which Dean could appreciate, he would want to play his senior year, but…Dean just felt useless.

He hurried up the stairs to his third floor single. Not many students wanted to room with the sports teams since they had to be up early, but it was another thing that made Dean feel alone in his new life.

And then there was Sam, the reason, he was hurrying so much. In the past two months, Dean had seen Sam only two other times. He knew that Sam couldn't come all the way down there while Dean was at football camp, players weren't even allowed to have guests, but he still felt like they were barely dating anymore.

Sure they spoke on the phone, just like he did with Bobby, but it wasn't the same. And Sam was so excited about school, Dean didn't want to complain, didn't want to be such a downer that Sam dumped his sorry ass. It wasn't even like there was anything wrong, not like getting beaten daily…

Dean snorted at his own humorless joke as he threw his duffle in the back seat of his car. The car was a graduation gift from Bobby, a 1967 Chevy Impala. The car had once belonged to John, but sold to Bobby after John had his license taken away. Not that that stopped John from driving but apparently John didn't want to hurt a classic car.

Driving the ____ distance to Duke was soothing to Dean and by the time, he was walking to Sam's first floor double, Dean was happily imagining the weekend ahead. He pictured Sam's big dimpled grin, Sam's deep breathless laugh, he looked forward to laughing and smiling and talking and touching and, yes, having sex. Dean's cock gave a hopeful twitch in his boxer-briefs at that suggestion, but it would have to wait as Dean opened Sam's door to discover it was empty.

Sam knew that he was coming tonight. Dean dialed Sam's cell on his own phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Shrugging and assuming Sam just got caught up with something, Dean dropped his duffel on Sam's side of the room. He had to scrounge in Sam's drawer for a sock to hang on the doorknob because Sam was a neat freak who didn't leave them on the floor. The sock was cliché but it did alert Sam's roommate, Phil to Dean's presence.

Sam had taken his computer with him wherever he was and the books on the shelves were all school related so there wasn't a whole lot for Dean to do. After investigating the room's contents for a few more minutes, Dean decided to go ahead and strip off his clothes and climb into Sam's bed. Surely Sam would be there any minute…

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Four hours later, Sam was hurrying back to his room. He knew that Dean had probably been there for a while, but he had been doing some group work in the library. He hadn't meant to be that late, but he and Sarah had been arguing over whether reptiles engaged in play behavior and thus should be included in their presentation and time had just gotten away from him.

Now it was one o'clock in the morning and Sam was dead tired. He had an eight am class every morning and it seemed like he was up late every night. College was great, meeting new people and learning new things with professors and students who actually cared, but the work was intense.

Opening the door to his room, Sam mused that he wasn't the only one worn out. Dean was sprawled on his stomach on Sam's bed. Sam tried to be quiet but gave up when Dean rolled over to his back and opened his eyes.

Dean watched Sam get undressed, putting his dirty clothes in the hamper like a good boy. A glance at the clock on the bedside table almost made Dean groan but he didn't want to sound like a clingy girlfriend so he bit it back.

Sam flopped into bed on his back, wanting nothing more in that moment than to curl around Dean in the too small bed and sleep.

Immediately Dean pressed against Sam's side, not caring as his sleep-warm skin came into contact with Sam's chilled from the night air. Dean kissed Sam's jaw and the corner of his boyfriend's lips, determined not to worry that Sam was late or that Sam didn't call or anything. Sam was here now and Dean wanted to take advantage of that fact.

Running his hands over Sam's torso, Dean only thought about how Sam had physically changed since their first meeting. Even before they left for college Sam had begun filling out, fulfilling the promise of his broad shoulders and huge hands, but it seemed that Sam had discovered the gym at college and Dean traced the curves of new muscles in his once gangly boyfriend's abdomen.

Dean's hand was just reaching the waist of Sam's boxers when Sam suddenly spoke, turning his face towards Dean.

"Dean, could we just…you know, like a quickie," Sam asked, hesitance and embarrassment evident in every word.

For a moment Dean didn't respond at all, the words getting lost somewhere in his brain.

Then all of Dean's breath whooshed out with his response. "Yeah," he said, trying not to let his disappointment show.

He turned onto his stomach, sliding his boxers off, aware of the air on his bare skin as he listened to Sam get out the lube and a condom. The first touch Dean felt was a light tap to his right thigh, a signal to spread his legs.

Sam settled himself between Dean's spread thighs, as always in awe at the sight of Dean naked beneath him: the ridges and valleys of Dean's muscled back, the roundness of Dean's ass, Dean's flexibility that always seemed to welcome and hold Sam. Dean's face was turned sideways on Sam's pillow and the shadows seemed to nestle in the hollow under Dean's cheek bone.

Dean almost squirmed away at the first slimy touch to his entrance, but then Sam was rubbing the clenched muscle just the way Dean loved and by the time that he was being stretched by a single finger, Dean was fully aroused and pressing back to get the digit deeper.

He could feel Sam behind him, the back of his thighs bumping into the front of Sam's, Sam's left hand gripping his hip, but he wanted more, more than the feel of his own sweat running down his exposed back, more than the feel of rumpled sheets brushing his erect cock and sensitive nipples.

But then Sam was pressing inside and all Dean could feel was the burn of that stretch, the long slow burn of someone who was intimately aware of the limits of Dean's body. Dean's focus narrowed to the grip of Sam's huge hands on his hips and the length driving into his prostate, the points of contact between Sam and himself.

Sam snapped his hips, driving hard and deep into Dean immediately, wanting to cum, wanting Dean writhing and crying out. It didn't take long for Sam to get both of his wishes.

He watched the flex of Dean's bicep as the other teen worked his own sex, slowing his thrusts until Dean stiffened and groaned before speeding up in a race to his own climax. Sam ground his pelvis against Dean's ass as he rode out the last of the shockwaves before he was pulling out and getting up.

Dean didn't even move as the bed shifted with the removal of Sam's weight. He was exhausted after his orgasm, mentally, emotionally, physically. He let Sam turn him onto his side as the larger teen spooned behind, one of the few ways two big guys could sleep in a tiny single. They were both asleep within minutes.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean awoke the next morning to the most obnoxious sound in the world, the alarm clock. Wasn't it the weekend? There had to be some mistake.

Apparently not as Sam was getting up and rummaging through his drawers.

Sitting up, the fabric of Sam's blue striped sheets pooling around his waist, Dean rubbed his eyes with a fist as he asked in a gruff voice, "Where're you going?"

Sam looked sheepish as he turned toward Dean in the midst of pulling on a clean t-shirt. "Meet with my chem lab partner. It's not due til Friday but I wanted to get it out of the way and he has to meet with another group later and I kinda wanted to work on my Women's Lit paper afterwards so…"

Dean waved a hand to cut Sam off, knowing that the other teen could talk about schoolwork forever. "If you're gonna be busy all day, I'm just gonna head back." And no that was not a clingy girlfriend thing to say, Dean told himself.

Sam did have the decency to look remorseful for a second. "Sure, I understand that. Sorry, but you know I don't like to be behind…"

Dean smiled, a smile that Sam could tell was fake. He knew that Dean was upset but he'd make it up to Dean as soon as he had a break in work, Sam told himself.

Sam left with his backpack and his toothbrush, leaving Dean on the bed feeling alone and naked in a way that had nothing to do with the empty room or the fact that Dean wasn't wearing anything beneath the sheet.


	10. All Tangled Up ch 2

_Author's Note: So as the people who have reviewed have heard, I'm sorry for torturing Dean. Not really. I was trying to recreate how Sam and Dean must have felt when Sam went to college on the show. I like to take the show literally and Sam said on the show that Dean was always there for him even when no one else was so I'm assuming they parted on good terms. So Sam not contacting Dean as well as John for four years was pretty insensitive…_

_Plus in the last story I already created a history where Sam is oblivious to Dean's suffering and Dean tries to keep his pain secret from Sam._

Dean spent the drive back to his own dorm, thinking. He wasn't upset, he wasn't. What was there to be upset about?

He certainly wasn't upset that Sam had wanted a quickie. He was a _guy_, he loved quickies. He had enjoyed quick sex with Sam lots of times when they both just needed to get off.

But last night it just…wasn't what Dean had wanted.

And he certainly couldn't be upset that Sam was busy. It wasn't Sam's fault that he was super smart and had lots of work and probably everyone wanted to study with him…

But the truth was that Dean was upset. He had wanted to spend time with Sam, to feel connected to his boyfriend again. He certainly hadn't wanted to be driving back to his own dorm less than 24 hours later.

But of course he couldn't tell Sam that he was upset. Sam didn't want a whiny bitch for a boyfriend. Sam fell in love with a confident, popular football star and Dean had to continue to be that guy no matter how miserable he really was. It was bad enough that Sam had seen him at the hospital, that Sam had seen him _before_, after his dad had…It was a miracle that Sam still wanted anything to do with him and Dean wouldn't do anything to push the other boy away.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

There were few other students about early on a Saturday morning, so it was surprising that Sam bumped right into a friend as he walked to the library. Jess was his best friend since high school and they had gone to Duke together.

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Sam asked. Jess wasn't exactly known as a morning person.

"Ughh," she groaned. "I've got a paper due Monday."

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked him over and Sam suddenly felt like he should have taken a shower after last night. He just hadn't had time, wanting to spend every extra second in the bed with Dean. But Jess seemed to know exactly what he had been up to.

"Hey, isn't your ridiculously hot boyfriend coming into town this weekend?"

Sam blushed. Dean had definitely been ridiculously hot last night…he coughed. "Yeah, he was here last night."

"So where is he? And why, or how, are you up so early?" Jess continued.

"Oh, I had a lot of work to get done today, so he went ahead back to school."

Sam knew that Jess wasn't going to like that answer and he scratched the back of his neck in consternation waiting for her to speak.

"You sent him away?!"

"No, _he_ was the one who suggested that he leave," Sam tried.

"You couldn't take one day off?"

"Well I could, but…"

"Sam."

It was the disappointment in Jess's voice that made Sam shut up. "He drove all the way up here only to turn around because you were busy. If you want it to work with Dean, you have to _try_."

"But he didn't say anything…"

"Just because Dean's not with his dad any more, doesn't mean that everything's honky-dory for him. He's fragile."

Sam laughed humorlessly, Jess's words hitting their mark. "Don't tell him that."

"I'm serious, Sam. He loves you and if you love him, you need to show him."

Sam nodded, showing that he understood what she was saying. They parted with a hug, Jess smiling to soften the blow of her words. Sam kept his head down as he continued walking to meet his lab partner. He had already felt a little guilty this morning, sensing Dean's disappointment.

He didn't mean to neglect his boyfriend, and it wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Dean…School was just so new and exciting. Sam guessed that he had gotten a little carried away.

He just felt like Dean would always be there for him. It was only now that Sam realized how arrogant that sounded, how manipulative of Dean's loyalty. And Sam should definitely have known that Dean wouldn't necessarily tell him if the other teen were upset. Dean had been quieter lately, subdued somehow.

Yeah, Sam had a lot to make up for this weekend.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It was a long weekend for Dean which turned into a long week. Dean had taken out some of his frustrations in exercising, going on a long run on some secluded trails he had found in the Appalachian mountains a short drive away. The trails were just the type that his father would have made him run.

Dean had spoken to Sam on the phone twice. Sam seemed fine, not at all bothered by Dean's sudden exit, yabbering on about schoolwork as much as ever. Sam asked about his classes, but Dean didn't have a whole lot to say. He was taking the normal, boring freshman classes: Intro Chem, Writing Seminar, History of the Roman Empire…Nothing to get excited about. Or at least nothing that excited _him_.

Dean sighed as he made his way back to his dorm after morning practice. He had one afternoon class before the weekend and then all he wanted to do was sleep, and possibly never wake up.

He opened the door to his room, not bothering with the key; he never locked it, but was frozen at the sight that awaited him inside. John was sitting solemnly on his bed, reading his history text.

"Dad?"

Dean's choked voice revealed the suppressed nature of his jumbled feelings towards his long absent father: pain, confusion, hope, fear. He had lived in fear of John for as long as he could remember, but Dean feared more his father's reprimands, his father's disappointment more than John's backhand.

Eventually his happiness to see his father won out and Dean stepped forward into the room. He was happy to see his father, happy that his father was alright and cared enough to come find Dean.

John slowly stood as Dean came near, looking awkward and out of place. Dean's face showed apprehension, emotions running after each other across his son's features, and John had never before felt like he had intruded on his son's life

"How did you get in here?" Dean asked. He was fairly certain Bobby would have told him if John had called asking about Dean's whereabouts.

"Pretty easily actually, since I am your father."

Dean nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor. John had never been much of a father and that fact hung in the air between them.

"So, you finished the rehab program?"

John's pinched, pained face told Dean the answer. The fact that John dropped out of rehab was not surprising, but that John seemed ashamed by the fact was.

"So why did you come here?"

"I came to see you."

Dean didn't have a clue what to say to that. Since he was four years old, he had wanted nothing but this man's, his _father's_ attention. For his father, Dean had made sure that he had been faster, stronger, better than all of the other boys. He had trained when other little boys were still playing with their G.I. Joe's. He had endured beatings and being berated, all for the slim possibility that John would have one nice thing to say, that his father would be _proud_ of him, that Dean could feel loved even for a minute.

John had disappeared while Dean had been in the hospital and now here he was, acting like nothing was wrong and suddenly Dean was angry. He was angry that his father would show up now when everything seemed to be falling apart, as if John were saying 'I told you so'.

"Are you kidding?! What do you care about your useless and pathetic son?!"

John seemed rightfully surprised. Dean had never talked back to him, certainly never shouted at him and John couldn't contain his own temper from rising to the challenge. He had spent too many years taking out his anger and pain on his son to suddenly be able to walk away.

"Don't you talk to me like that! I'm your father. Without me, you wouldn't even have made it into college."

"How do you figure?"

"You think you got in here on your brains? You were an uncoordinated and lazy little boy that I made into an athlete!"

"You almost killed me!"

The backhand across his face shouldn't have surprised Dean but it did. It had been a while since he had been hit. And the blow was hard, just like Dean remembered, pain blossoming across his cheek.

Dean stared at the ground, refusing to look up into John's face and see the anger and disgust he had seen so many times before.

The truth hurt them both. It was the first time that Dean himself had acknowledged what John had done to him.

But nothing compared to the surprise that Dean felt when John drew him into a tight hug, both still breathing hard with emotion.

"I didn't mean to," John whispered. Even as he said the words, the elder man knew that it didn't matter whether he had meant to. He had hit his son, he had beaten Dean repeatedly and half to death.

He had spent a month in rehab coming to terms with that fact, until the guilt drove him back to the bottle. From there it was a cycle of trying to get sober and falling back off the wagon. And then he decided he needed to see his son.

He remembered how happy, how excited he had been when Dean was born, how perfect he had thought the infant was. John couldn't begin to imagine what Mary would think of what he had turned into.

"When your mother died, I couldn't…I couldn't cope. You were so small and you _needed_ me and I couldn't be there for you."

John inhaled a shaky breath, loosening his grip on the teen so that he was no longer crushing Dean.

"Maybe I wanted to push you away. You're so like your mother, you know. And then when you wanted to play sports, I thought, _this_ I could do. I knew sports, I could make you the best…

But by then I was so lost in the bottle, so full of grief and anger. I took it out on you and I used sports as an excuse."

And he had only been in the room with Dean for five minutes and John had already hit the boy again. At this point he didn't know how to deal with his emotions any other way.

Sometimes he was so angry at Mary, as ridiculous as that sounded. He was angry at her for leaving him, leaving this precious little boy. Sometimes he struck out at Dean because he was a part of her and sometimes he was angry at Dean for being a reminder of the perfect life that John once had. But most of the time the boy was just convenient.

John allowed Dean to step back, feeling surprisingly disappointed at the loss of contact.

"It's ok, Dad."

John's smile was more of a grimace. "You used to say the same thing to me when you were a kid, you know, and it wasn't any more true then than it is now."

Dean was silent again and John nodded mostly to himself as he strode past his son towards the door.

"I'm gonna be around for a few days…I'll come back by." John said it as more of a question and Dean answered with a teenager's typical "Yeah, sure."


	11. All Tangled Up Ch 3

Sam borrowed Jess's car and drove down to Chapel Hill on Friday. He had memorized Dean's class schedule and knew that Dean didn't get out til four.

He had a surprise planned. Ok, so it wasn't the most romantic setup ever, but it was the thought that counted. And fortunately for Sam, Dean was easy to please.

The first problem was that it would still be light out by the time that Dean came in. Secondly, candles weren't allowed in the dorm. So Sam pulled the shades, and picked up Dean's dirty clothes. He had bought a projector that would put stars on the ceiling and, of course, a red rose now lying on the bed.

Dean walked into his dorm room that afternoon to discover an unexpected guest inside for the second time that day.

Course the sight of Sam sitting on his bed was a slightly happier surprise for Dean and he couldn't have stopped the joyful smile that spread across his face and alighted in his eyes. Dean would forgive Sam anything. Always.

That Sam seemed to be similarly delighted to see him only made the moment sweeter as Sam stood and moved immediately into Dean's space. Dean was so ecstatic he missed when the frown began to darken his boyfriend's face.

"Sam, what're you…?"

Dean never got to finish that sentence as Sam's hand extended to touch his bruised cheek. Dean's own smile faltered for just a second before he plastered it back on.

Pulling his face just slightly out of the warmth of Sam's touch, Dean answered the question that Sam hadn't asked yet.

"I ran into my open locker. Stupid. But what are you doing here?"

The diversion worked as the smile and excitement came back into Sam's face.

"I came down to surprise you."

"But you know I have a game tomorrow night. It's too late for you to get tickets…"

Sam just shrugged. "I'll find some way to amuse myself."

Sam's words hung in the air between them. They both knew it was an apology for the weekend previous, but neither wanted to actually say it.

"Hey," Sam abruptly exclaimed and grabbed for Dean's hand. "Since we can't have candles I found this projector thing…"

Sam turned it on, even though the stars were barely visible with the sun still streaming through the curtains. Dean's smile had returned as well as he swept his eyes across the room.

"You cleaned my room?!"

Sam looked caught and embarrassed. "Just picked up a few things…"

Dean smiled, laughing a little even as he pulled Sam close and their lips met. It took a moment for the kiss to really get started, for a long moment it was just smiling against each others' lips and feeling the closeness as they pressed their bodies together.

But then Dean's tongue was tracing Sam's lips before licking inside. Sam moaned as one hand clutched at the back of Dean's head, wanting to keep Dean there so he could continue kissing the other boy.

It was apparently the signal that Dean had been waiting for as his kisses became more passionate. He pushed harder against Sam who stumbled back into the bureau behind him. It seemed as if Dean were trying to get closer than physically possible and so Sam decided to take the initiative to start removing their clothes.

Dean was absolutely no help as Sam pulled on the hem of the shorter teen's shirt. He was seemingly determined to stay pressed against Sam with a desperation that Sam hadn't been expecting. Perhaps Jess had been right.

After much finagling Sam managed to get both of their shirts off and the feel of Dean's skin against his own sent Sam's own desperation sky-rocketing. Dean's arms were around Sam in a semi-hug, holding them together as Sam's hands skimmed over the soft, smooth skin of Dean's back. His hands slipped down to Dean's tapered waist and over the waist of the jeans. Sam couldn't resist squeezing Dean's ass and lifting up to pull Dean's crotch against his own.

Dean groaned, his head falling back and his grip on Sam loosening. Sam took advantage not only of the exposed length of Dean's neck, but also of the tiny space between them to unbutton and pull off both of their pants.

Dean was smiling again as Sam pushed him onto the bed and pulled off his boyfriend's boxers. Standing, Sam gave a little show as he lowered his own boxers, turning around to pull them slowly down the curve of his ass as he looked over his shoulder at Dean and pursed his lips.

They both couldn't help laughing. Sam thought in that moment, Dean lying on the bed naked and holding the slightly crushed red rose, laughing full and deep with a smile that stretched Dean's cheeks, that Dean had never been as beautiful.

Finally dropping his own boxers to the floor, Sam crawled over Dean, the laughter quieting but the smiles remaining as he did so. Sam thought the only thing that marred that moment was the bruise across Dean's right cheek. It reminded Sam of other bruises, visible marks on skin that reflected the pain in Dean's eyes.

Sam took the rose from Dean's hand and trailed it over Dean's chest before asking Dean to turn over. He didn't miss the look of disappointment that passed over Dean's face before the smaller man complied.

Sam had plans, but he took a moment to just cover Dean's body with his own, holding the other teen close and pressing chaste but intimate kisses into Dean's neck. Slowly, Sam trailed those kisses down Dean's back. Dean had already opened his thighs to make room for Sam between them.

Spreading Dean's thighs further, his big hands looking dark against Dean's pale skin and blonde downy hair, Sam continued his kisses right down between the round cheeks. He could hear Dean's breath stop long before Sam was ghosting his breath over Dean's entrance.

Dean held perfectly still as he felt Sam's hands holding him open and that first soft, wet swipe across his entrance. This was something they had never done and he didn't know what to do with himself.

Sam rearranged himself more comfortably, sliding his arms under Dean's thighs and pulling Dean's hips up. Dean grabbed onto his pillow as he was arranged, wanting to stifle the moans he knew he'd be making if Sam continued.

Knowing Dean was drowning in anticipation, Sam drew it out, playfully nipping one round globe of Dean's muscular behind. Dean jerked, unconsciously pressing back into Sam's face.

"Fuck, Sam!"

Sam had to hold in his chuckle, he knew Dean loved it.

Sam rubbed the flat of his tongue over the ridged ring as Dean began to squirm in his grasp, the pillow not quite muffling the needy whimpering cries.

Stopping to remoisten his tongue, Sam couldn't help asking, "You like that?"

"Fuck, yeah…Don't stop, Sammy."

Sam had no intention of stopping. As he continued, Dean's movements became more rhythmic, his hips rolling in an imitation of having sex, his heavy erection swinging free between his legs.

Sharpening his tongue, Sam stabbed at the hole, forcing a tiny bit inside. He licked, kissed, and sucked at the tiny hole, relishing the almost pained sounds that Dean made as he did so.

"Unh…mmmhuh, deeper," Dean buried the rest of his sounds in the pillow.

Sam didn't hesitate in obeying that order and inserted a finger, continuing to lick around the opening as he massaged Dean's prostate. He had to momentarily pull away to grab the lube, before pushing two in.

"Turn over."

Dean was panting hard as he complied, his mouth open, his lips shiny red and wet, his muscular chest heaving. Sam didn't think he'd ever seen Dean looking so debauched as he leaned over to take the other teen's lips in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Dean's hands clutched at Sam's back, his short nails digging in and leaving lines of red that caused Sam to arch, pushing his groin into Dean's own. As their lips parted, Dean was still breathing too hard to do more than mouth over the skin of Sam's collarbone.

"Come on, Sam," Dean's words were a harsh whisper against the heated skin of Sam's shoulder.

Sam had to pull back to comply, but Dean couldn't seem to let go completely. His hands slid down Sam's arms from his back, his left hand slipping down to Sam's thigh as Sam prepared his own cock with a condom and lube.

Sam lifted Dean's leg over his shoulder. Not for the first time Sam was thankful for Dean's flexibility that allowed him to lean down over Dean as he pressed inside. He wanted to keep that connection that Dean seemed to need, wanted to reassure the other teen with his whole body if need be.

And Dean arched up, pulled Sam into him with the heel of his other foot and onto him with a hand to the back of Sam's neck. Sam's thrusts were shallow at this angle, but the feel of Dean's sweaty chest as he writhed under the larger teen made up for it.

Eventually though, he had to pull back. Dean was begging for harder and deeper, thrusting his hips up. Sam lifted himself on one hand placed beside Dean's head, the other under Dean's lower back, helping the other teen keep his hips up.

Still, this way he could see Dean's face, watch as Dean was seemingly buffeted by his thrusts, as Dean's face contorted with pleasure that looked like a grimace, watch as each throaty moan and tiny cry forced its way past full lips. He could look into Dean's eyes, eyes that seemed surprised and pleased at each forceful thrust, that seemed riveted to Sam's own, eyes that eventually closed as the blonde tossed his head back.

Dean had one arm on the bed, steadying himself but the other ran over Sam's face, grasped his shoulder and occasionally dipped down Sam's chest to toy with a perky nipple. When that hand ultimately dropped down to stroke at his own erection, Sam's eyes followed, jumping like a tennis match between Dean's hand and his boyfriend's face.

It was only after Dean came with a soundless cry, painting his own belly, and Sam's with a drop or two, that Sam let himself go, his thrusts becoming short and hard. Dean kept his hips lifted and they both collapsed when Sam was spent.

The bed was tiny and sticky, and so were they, but when Sam rolled back over from throwing the condom away, they snuggled up with smiles on their sleepy faces.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

They napped and took separate showers and ate dinner in the cafeteria and fooled around again. They went to sleep that night watching the stars swirl on the ceiling, Dean practically lying on top of Sam so that they would fit.

Sam woke the next morning feeling good. Sam was happy. And Dean was happy which made Sam happier. He pulled his leg up from where it was hanging half off the bed and curled tighter around his boyfriend, Dean making incomprehensible but vaguely displeased noises.

He was just settling his head on Dean's shoulder when there was someone barging into the room.

"Dean, I thought…"

_John?!_ What was Dean's father doing in his college dorm room? Dean hadn't even heard from the man in months.

Both boys stiffened in bed, the sound of his father's voice immediately waking Dean.

Thankfully and much to Sam's surprise, John averted his face from the scene of the two teens in bed. They both jumped at the opportunity to slide their boxers under the sheets and get up to pull their pants and shirts back on.

Sam's head was spinning. He had frankly expected John to freak out and attack them for being in bed together.

Stunned into speechlessness, Sam only watched as Dean moved forward towards his father.

"Dad," it was half a statement half a question. "What're you doing back here?"

John turned back to look at his son, seeming uncomfortable, his face tight. "Thought we could go out to breakfast. Sam can join us."

John's eyes flicked over to Sam as the taller teen approached. Sam was flabbergasted at the invitation. The last time he had seen the man had been when John had just put Dean in the hospital and now John wanted them to go out for pancakes, to pretend that everything was great and he didn't _abuse _his son!

Sam's eyes flicked from John's melancholy dark eyes to Dean's guilty expression and it was like the proverbial light bulb going on over his head.

"He did that?!" Sam pointed to Dean's cheek. "He hit you? Again?! And you're just letting him stand there?"

Sam was becoming increasing angry. When Dean was angry his voice got low and his demeanor lethal, but Sam…Sam got loud.

John spoke up. "Listen. I know that I deserve everything that you have to say to me but I just want to talk…"

"Talk!" Sam exploded. "You don't talk, you hit! You _abused_ your son and now you wanna **talk **about it?!"

Dean flinched at the word _abuse_ even as he was moving in between the Sam and his father. He put a hand on his boyfriend's chest as he turned to look at his father. This was quickly getting out of hand and he knew how short his father's temper was. He didn't want, _couldn't let_ John lash out at Sam.

"Dad, just go. We'll talk later, but just go now."

John nodded and left, but Dean didn't see him go, too busy focusing on Sam. Sam on the other hand watched John like a hawk.

As soon as John was gone though, Sam's ire turned on Dean. Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair, feeling so angry he didn't know what to do with himself.

"So what? You're just gonna let him beat you up again?"

"What?! NO. I should have told you, but it's not like that…"

"How can you say that with his handprint on your face?!" Sam took a deep breath, that whooshed out like a sob when he exhaled. "Listen Dean, I can't…I can't watch him do this to you again. I can't sit by your hospital bed again wondering if you're going to die…I can't."

By the end of his words, Sam was sobbing, tears slipping down his cheeks. When he looked at Dean he could tell the other boy was holding back tears as well.

"Sam…he's my dad."

"I know, but I can't…I'm sorry, I'll call you later."

Sam grabbed his shoes and rushed out the door, not even bothering to put them on. He couldn't bear to look at Dean, to see that agony in those green eyes, to see that bruise on Dean's face and remember the scent of blood thick in the air, the scent of cleaner in the hospital and the fear, that fear that clogged the back of his throat with the idea that Dean might never wake up.


	12. All Tangled UP CH 4

_Author's Note: Ok I know you all hate me. I've made Sam an ass and Dean is making Olympic-sized leaps of misunderstanding, but keep in mind they're teenagers. It may have been a few years since I was one, but I can clearly remember the raging angst and self-pity that occasionally overtook me before I went back to being my normal obnoxious self at that age. _

_Oh by the way, I have a new story in mind, an AU based on a fairy tale, but I'm having some trouble deciding in which direction to take it. If you wanna give me your opinion please message me and I'll tell you my ideas. And don't worry, I won't ruin the story for anyone who agrees to let me run some ideas past them._

Dean stared at the closed door of his dorm room. How could Sam have just left like that?

It wasn't like that again, it wasn't. Before Dean had had nothing, no one but John, no reason to defend himself. Certainly no one else to defend.

But now he had Sam. The first time he had stood up to his father, it was over Sam, and John had put Dean in the hospital. Did Sam think that now he was just going to let his father separate them?

Sam hadn't seen what had happened yesterday, hadn't even let Dean explain. He had yelled at his father, something _he _could barely believe he had done. Dean certainly didn't want to go back to before, didn't want to go back to hiding, to being alone.

But it didn't seem to matter what he wanted. Sam had walked away, couldn't deal with him, didn't want someone so fucked up. No one wanted someone useless, worthless, who couldn't defend himself, who let his father beat him because he was so pathetic.

Dean angrily wiped away the few tears that had leaked out. No point in crying over it. Sam would have left eventually anyway. Sam was a good kid who deserved more than him, Dean should never have gotten involved with the other teen in the first place. He had always been torn between wanting Sam to be with him and thinking that the other boy would be better off without him.

Collapsing on his bed, Dean curled into a fetal position. The sheets smelled of Sam and sex and Dean curled deeper into them. He felt the tears coming again, the sobs choking him, but he refused to let them out.

Breathing harshly, Dean tried to think. He didn't know what to do now. What was the point? What was the point of the game that night, or college, or anything. No one needed him, no one would miss him if he didn't get out of bed ever again.

He sat up. He couldn't stay in the bed or he really would never leave it. No, he got up and put on his running clothes. He needed to lose himself in exercise.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam didn't know where to go, but he knew he couldn't drive like this, with tears and snot streaming down his face, too worked up to breathe properly. Eventually, he just sat down in the grass in the shade of a tree.

Christ, he didn't know what to do. He had been serious, he couldn't simply watch Dean be beaten and know the cause of it, know that it didn't have to be that way. He didn't understand Dean, how could the other teen even stand to look at John? Why did Dean still love his father? How did a person love someone who hit them, someone who obviously didn't love in return?

Sam needed to talk to someone, someone who understood the situation in its entirety. Hesitantly, he took out his cell phone and called Bobby.

"'ello," was the greeting.

"Bobby?" Sam knew that he sounded wrecked and it was confirmed when Bobby's next words sounded anxious.

"Sam? What's wrong, boy?"

"Bobby, it's…" Sam took a minute to try and compose himself before he continued. He didn't want to worry the man over him over-reacting. "It's John. He's been by Dean's dorm…"

"Is Dean with you now?"

"No. We had…we had a fight. I'm on the UNC campus now, but I'm not with Dean."

Bobby's sigh sounded down the line, "Well, you better tell me what happened."

So Sam did. He told Bobby about his surprise and the bruise and Dean's lie and John's entrance and the fight that ensued.

"Ahh, son. _Nobody_ wants to go through that again. But I don't think that you're giving Dean enough credit. He stood up for you to his father once before and received the beating of his life, I don't think that he'd let John just waltz back into his life and let the man tear you two apart.

But, I think Dean does need you to remind him that he has something to fight for. He needs you to be aware and looking for the signs. Dean needs to answer for his actions, to know that he can be responsible for his own future."

"But John could go psycho at any time."

"Sam, you can't just expect Dean to cut John out of his life. I know you don't understand it, but Dean loves his father and if you love Dean, you're going to have to accept that.

Course that doesn't mean that you let Dean be an idjit about the situation. Maybe they should have supervised visits…" Bobby trailed off, obviously thinking over possibilities in his head.

"Listen, Sam. I'm gonna head on down there. I should be there before dark. If I were you, I'd go apologize to Dean. I know that you were upset and needed time to think but I'm afraid that Dean probably feels abandoned. You need to explain how you feel when Dean gets hurt."

Sam thanked Bobby and hung up. He was beyond pleased that Bobby was on his way. Bobby was not only an all-around great guy who had always been there for Dean, he was an adult who wasn't afraid to stand up to John.

Now that Sam had a clearer head, he realized he shouldn't have just run away from Dean. He knew that Dean's biggest fear was abandonment and abandoned was exactly how Dean had to be feeling right then.

Bobby had been right. He needed to make it clear to Dean what he felt. Dean needed to understand that Sam wouldn't just stand by and watch what his boyfriend be beaten by his father. But Sam also needed to let Dean know that he would be there to support Dean in standing up to his father, and perhaps, help Dean re-establish a relationship with the man. A healthier relationship.

Feeling calmer, Sam put on his shoes and made his way back to Dean's dorm room.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dean ran. He ran until he was exhausted, until he was beyond exhausted. He ran up hills and down hills, ran through underbrush and jumped over logs.

He knew that he should stop. He hadn't brought a watch but he could tell from the sun shining through the dense foliage that it was afternoon. His legs had turned to jello and muscle cramps, and despite that he hadn't eaten anything since the night previous, he was nauseous. He had only brought one bottle of water and it had run out long ago.

He knew that he should go back and get ready for the game, but he could still see Sam's face in his mind, so he ran on, climbing higher and higher up the current hill.

It was warm out, in the high fifties during the day in October even at this altitude, but Dean didn't seem to be sweating as much as normal, hadn't had to piss in hours either. As an athlete, Dean knew that he was dehydrated, knew that he shouldn't have let it go on this long.

Dean gasped as the muscle of his thigh spasmed. He almost collapsed on the ground as his leg literally seized, only barely managing to reach out and lean against a nearby tree trunk.

Dean squinted his eyes in pain, his breathing coming fast and hard. Aside from the fact that it felt like the worst charlie-horse in recorded history, muscle spasms were a very bad sign. He wondered whether he would even be able to make it back to the car.

Shrugging off those defeated feelings as well as the tree he had been leaning against, Dean started the walk back. Now that he had stopped it was difficult to get started moving again, his muscles crying out in protest, his mouth parched.

Dean didn't even attempt to step over the branch on the trail, shuffling his feet. The branch wasn't even big, less than an inch in diameter, but it tangled his left foot. Before he even knew what was happening, he was falling towards the hill's downward slope.

He tried to regain his balance, crossing his right leg over, but at the angle that he put his foot down on the hill, his ankle rolled. Dean swore that he heard a pop, but he couldn't be sure as he had immediately collapsed and begun rolling down the hill.

He couldn't be sure when he stopped either, because on the way down his head hit a rock and the last thing he saw was a blur of green grass.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Sam rushed back to Dean's dorm room. Now that he was feeling more in control of himself, he wanted to make sure that Dean was ok. He knew that Dean had to have felt as wrecked as he himself had and Sam was worried…and ashamed for running out.

He had expected to open the door and find Dean crying, or raging and throwing things. Sam certainly had not expected to open the door and find the room empty.

For a moment he just stood there, staring as if Dean were going to pop out of thin air in front of his eyes. But nothing happened.

First Sam called Dean's cell, unimpressed when it rang in the pocket of Dean's jeans, still lying on the floor from where they had been dropped the previous night.

Where would Dean have gone?! Sam checked around the room, noticing that Dean's tennis shoes were gone, but not his football gear…and Dean's car keys. Sam couldn't find Dean's car keys.

Sam sprinted outside. He didn't exactly know why he was running, but since he had hung up with Bobby, Sam had felt a sense of urgency, a _need_ to get to Dean and make things good between them again. Dean was fragile, and for once, Sam wanted to be Dean's hero, the protector.

Dean was always protecting Sam, from school bullies and homophobic townspeople and even from Sam himself. Dean was always there for Sam, listening to his minor problems with his own father.

Dean never had spoken to Sam about what John had done, what Dean had lived through. Sam decided right then that that was going to change…as soon as he got Dean back and begged forgiveness.

Sam searched all five floors of the parking deck for the Impala. He was certain it wasn't there. But where would Dean have gone? Sam was starting to feel like a broken record.

He realized then that he really had no idea where Dean would go. Dean hadn't spoken of any hangout places or any friends even…Dean really hadn't said much of anything lately. Their conversations had mostly revolved around Sam and his excitement over school, the people he met and the places he went.

He hadn't noticed. Dean had obviously been upset before last weekend, upset with more than his relationship with Sam. And he hadn't noticed.

Leaving the parking garage, Sam called Bobby back.

"'ello."

"Bobby, Dean's gone."

"What are you talking about, Dean's gone?"

"His car, he took his car somewhere."

"And you don't have a clue where?"

"No, Bobby, he never said anything, not where he likes to go or who he hangs out with…"

Bobby cut him off before Sam could really get started on a self-loathing rant. "Listen, Sam. Go back to his dorm room in case he comes back. I'll be there soon. Oh and eat something, I know how you are."

Sam frowned as the phone cut off. He did have a tendency not to eat when he was anxious but how could he eat with Dean missing? Still he picked up a sandwich on the way back to Dean's room.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Bobby arrived in the late afternoon. Sam had almost driven himself insane by then, eventually napping on sheets that smelled of Dean and the perfect night they had had.

At the sight of the older man in his pre-requisite trucker cap, Sam leapt up, enveloping Bobby in a desperate hug.

"Stop that. Everything's gonna be fine and panicking certainly isn't going to help."

Sam was just drawing back from the other man, wiping at his wet eyes with a hand for the millionth time that day, when he noticed someone else entering Dean's room.

"What are you doing here!!" Sam screamed at John. "Where's Dean? Is he with you?"

Bobby curtailed his outburst with a firm hand on his shoulder, nodding to John to explain himself.

"I haven't seen Dean since this morning. He's not at the game so I decided to stop by again." John's voice was brusque, obviously annoyed by Sam's continued outbursts towards him.

Bobby could clearly see the tension on both faces. "Listen here you two. We need to focus on Dean. We find him and then you all can have your pissing match, got it? John, the boy's had a fight with you and Sam, so he's probably gone somewhere to lick his wounds."

Sam deflated, knowing that he was right while John simply gave another curt nod.

"So, Sam. You notice anything else missing?"

"Just his running shoes and his car."

"But no idea where he'd go, anyone he'd go to?"

Sam just shook his head, dejectedly.

"He'd go running."

Sam and Bobby stared at John, so surprised that the man had spoken that neither understood the words for a moment.

"He could just go running on campus. And it's been hours, the whole day practically." Sam knew that his voice sounded sullen and defiant but it was all he could do not to start screaming again.

"No, he'd want something more challenging, probably drive into the mountains around here."

At Bobby and Sam's still dumbfounded and disbelieving faces, John continued to elaborate. "When he would be upset, acting out or whatnot, I'd make him run. Tire the fight out of him on a secluded trail."

Both Bobby and Sam stared at John, realizing that this was an insight into John and Dean's relationship that both men had only seen from the outside before. Fortunately, Bobby realized that now wasn't the time to be horrified over John's parenting techniques.

"Ok," Bobby said. "Well then, Sam, you pull up some maps of the nearest trails to here and we'll let John see which ones he thinks are most likely. We need to hurry it'll be dark soon."


	13. All Tangled Up Ch 5

_Author's Note: Hmmm not many reviews for the last chapter. I'm not one hundred percent happy with the writing of the ending, but here it is and I hope y'all enjoy it. For this chapter, keep in mind, I don't have a medical degree and my only clinical experience is in sexual health, so if the medical data in this is not accurate, forgive me. _

The three of them climbed into Bobby's car, an SUV fortunately, that the man had probably been working on from his salvage yard. John sat in the back. He had insisted stopping to get his own pack from the trunk of his car, taking more time that Sam felt that they didn't have. Who knew what shape Dean was in?

The drive was made in silence. Sam still couldn't believe that this was all based on John's insight into his son. Sam didn't want to acknowledge that John knew anything about Dean. How could John know what trails Dean would pick to run when he was upset, but the man couldn't see what his own actions were doing to his son?

And it made Sam furious that John would know something more than Sam. Sam who had found Dean when John had left the boy to die, Sam who had been there in the hospital when Dean had his almost breakdown, who had been there as Dean put his life back together without John.

Sam felt jealous and…ashamed. Ashamed that he didn't know what Dean did to relieve stress, ashamed that **again **he hadn't realized the stress that Dean was under. He had been oblivious, too caught up in his own life to realize that he didn't know all that much about the person he professed to love.

Eventually they arrived at the trails and searched each parking lot for Dean's car. When they found the Impala, Sam was practically out of Bobby's vehicle before it had stopped.

Sam didn't know what he expected to find, but there was no sign of Dean in it, no sign of whether Dean had meant to stay out all night or not.

John was entranced at the sight of the Impala. He hadn't realized that Bobby had fixed it up or that Dean now drove it. He was impressed at the state of it, shiny and perfect like Dean treasured it.

The Impala had been so much more than a car to John. It had been the first car he had bought, home from the war, in love and hoping to start a life and a family. He had proposed to Mary in that car and driven Dean home from the hospital in it. He could remember how happy she had been then, exhausted but ecstatic.

John was interrupted from his thoughts by the sounds of Bobby opening the back of his car. He shouldered his own pack and headed up the trail.

Sam watched Dean's father go with a frown. "Hey, where is he going?"

Bobby looked up from placing some extra water bottles in a pack. "Leave him be son. John was a Marine, served in Vietnam. If anyone can find Dean, it's John."

Sam still frowned, but let it go, focusing instead on Bobby who was closing the hatchback. "Here, I'll carry it."

It was Bobby's turn to frown. "I'm not that old," he protested, but handed the pack over as well as a flashback. Bobby was one of those people who were always prepared, like John apparently.

They began to walk, searching the trail and to each side with their flashlights searching for footprints or any sign that Dean was near.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The first thing that Dean was aware of was cold. He was freezing and attempted to reach down to pull the blankets up.

That was when he realized some other things. One was that he was not in his bed as his hand brushed against grass and leaves. But that was a passing thought as the movement sent pain and dizziness crashing through Dean's skull and he rolled to his side to vomit bile.

After dry-heaving, Dean rolled to his back and lay still. He remembered coming out here for a run after…after Sam had finally left him. He remembered the dehydration and the cramps but…

Now it was dark. It had been warm during the day, but not now. It probably wasn't below freezing, but Dean was only wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts. He was shivering in the cold night air.

Just the motion of the shivering was causing his head to pound harder. He lifted a hand to his face, feeling what he assumed to be wet and dried blood covering the right side. He knew how head wounds bled. He was more worried that he had apparently lost consciousness and had slight amnesia.

He knew he had to get up. If he stayed out here, he'd probably die of hypothermia, not to mention dehydration or being eaten by some wild animal.

Getting on his feet was not easy though, the slightest movement caused the pain in his head to increase and his nausea to return. By the time Dean had made it to his knees, he was vomiting again.

On his knees, Dean also discovered a new injury. His right foot was sending sharp signals of pain when he put weight on it. Still with a bit of maneuvering, Dean managed to get his left foot underneath him so that he could stand.

On his feet, though, Dean's head was swimming and he limped and stumbled into a nearby tree, grasping onto its rough bark to keep from falling.

"Fuck!" Dean couldn't help crying out his frustration to the empty night. Everything hurt. He was going to die out here because he couldn't overcome the pain.

Breathing deeply, Dean clung to the tree until his vision stopped swimming. Then he attempted to walk. His right foot could barely hold any of his weight and his head hung half way to his chest.

Slowly Dean made his way from tree to tree, following the trail that he had been running on. He was still shivering, still nauseous and dizzy, his legs still cramping, his head pounding worse than he had ever felt, and Dean was fairly sure his foot was broken.

And still Dean walked on. He concentrated on step after limping step, his hands constantly reaching out in front of him for the next tree.

After a while, it occurred to Dean that he totally looked like a zombie from a cheesy horror movie. Blood running down his bruised cheek, limping with his hands stretched out in front of him. He tried to laugh, but it turned into coughing which made his head feel worse.

Dean didn't know how long he kept walking, every step seemingly an insurmountable obstacle. Until the next step really was impossible. His legs buckled before he made it to the next tree, his injured foot caught beneath him.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. He couldn't possibly get back up. At this point he didn't care if he never got up. He was obviously going to die out here.

Per usual, his thoughts turned to Sam. He wished that he could see the other teen again. Even if Sam didn't want a relationship between them, Dean wished that he could see Sam happy, that he could see Sam graduate and get a great job. He wished that he could tell Sam how much last night had meant to him.

He thought about Bobby. Bobby didn't deserve any more loss. Bobby had always given so much to Dean, was willing to give a lot more that Dean never accepted. He wished that he could hug Bobby again, that he could tell the man how grateful he was.

Dean thought about his father. There was so much that Dean wished that he had said to his Dad. He wished that he had told John that he loved him no matter what. He wished that he had told his father how John had hurt him.

He wished that he had told his coach that he wouldn't be at the game. Chuckling lightly to himself, Dean began to crawl forward. His hands could barely feel the leaves and dirt beneath fingers.

He crawled literally until he passed out.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

John could tell that Dean had run around the trail several times. He could tell where Dean started to give in to his exhaustion, shuffling his feet, stumbling a little. And he could definitely tell when Dean fell off the trail.

John carefully made his way down the hill, flicking his flashlight from left to right. In the dark he could trip over Dean.

He was determined to find Dean, to save his son. This was something he could do. He couldn't magically undo all the damage he had done to his son, didn't even know how to begin to rectify his relationship with Dean emotionally…but he did love his son. He had been terrible at showing it, but John would give his life for Dean.

Swinging his flashlight, there was definitely blood on the leaves half way down the hill. But Dean was definitely not there. At the bottom there was a mostly dried pool of it where presumably the teen had lain for a while, possibly unconscious.

But Dean hadn't stayed down, there were shuffling footprints and blood-stained tree trunks leading back toward the car. John almost smiled, proud of his son's resilience.

John hurried on. Eventually the shuffling steps stopped, but there was still no sign of his son. Instead there were signs of crawling, of Dean being so desperate that he had dragged himself along the ground.

It wasn't much beyond that that John actually found Dean. The teen was lying in a heap, the flashlight shining on the blood staining his son's body. John hurried over and knelt down.

"Dean?"

John carefully gathered his son in his arms, noticing that despite the desperation that Dean must have felt, there were no tear tracks in the dirt and blood on the teen's cheeks.

Tears formed in the older man's eyes, however, knowing exactly how Dean had acquired the ability not to cry. Certainly Dean had never cried no matter how difficult the training that John put him through, the boy had never cried when injured either on the field or by John's own hand.

But Dean had learned to hold in his tears long before then, right after Mary died in fact. Dean had been just a child, a little boy who wanted his mommy. Except that Dean's mother had died.

And John hadn't been able to stand the sound of his son's cries, of his son's grief. Grief that John himself had refused to let out. He had screamed at the child to be quiet, that boys didn't cry. It had been the first time that John had yelled at and belittled his son, the first time that he had expressed the grief that seemed to be choking him twenty-four hours a day. It quickly became the only way that John could let out that soul-consuming grief, in anger at his son.

"Dean," he tried again. This time frozen hands came up to grip weakly at John's wrists and Dean's long eyelashes began to flutter against his cheeks.

"Dad…Daddy?" Dean's voice was soft and raw, questioning and pleading. It pulled at whatever paternal heart-strings John had.

John swallowed. "Yeah, son, I'm here."

"Dad, I think…my foot…broken." Dean's throat was so dry that the words seemed to get stuck.

"Ok, son, I'm gonna get you out of here." In one swift movement, John swung Dean's limp weight over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Dean emitted a half-bitten off cry before falling silent again.

John didn't attempt to climb back up the hill to the trail, he simply kept walking the same direction that Dean had been crawling in.

"Hey Bobby! I found him!" He yelled out. "Meet at the car!"

Hearing John's shout, Sam took off immediately back down the trail, ignoring Bobby's 'now wait just a minute, boy, no use killing yerself too'.

Sam was waiting by the car by the time, John walked up with his son, and the barrage of questions started as soon as the elder man was in sight.

"Is he ok? Is he hurt? Is he awake?"

Fortunately, Bobby who was used to the larger teen's motor mouth, had just walked up.

"Now, Sam, calm down. We'll check him out."

Hurrying towards them, Bobby unlocked the car. When Sam opened the back door, John gestured for the other teen to climb in.

Carefully, John relinquished his hold on his son to Sam, tucking Dean's feet into the car before closing the door. Bobby was already in the driver's seat by the time John climbed into shotgun.

Sam cradled Dean's head in his lap, looking down on his boyfriend's blood and dirt covered face, Dean's blue lips.

"What happened?"

"Seems he fell off the trail, probably has a broken foot and a concussion, definitely hypothermia." John's voice was calm and detached sounding.

Sam nodded absently, beginning to rub Dean's exposed and scratched arms with his hands. How had this happened? Was Dean just that unlucky?

His un-asked question was answered as John spoke again. "He was exhausted and doubtless dehydrated when he fell."

Bobby chimed in then with his two cents. "Boy was trying to outrun himself."

As if reacting to their words about him, Dean began to shiver, violently.

"Bobby," Sam cried out, instinctively reaching out to the older man that had become a mentor to both teens. "He's shivering."

"It's a good sign." John spoke up again.

Not knowing whether to try and restrain the other teen or not, Sam just held Dean tighter against his chest. But it was like Dean's own movements had woken him. Dean's lashes fluttered against pale cheeks before the smaller teen tried to turn into the warmth.

Even that slight motion, however, caused his headache to intensify again and Dean moaned softly against Sam's t-shirt.

"It's ok, Dean. You're gonna be fine." Sam met Bobby's eyes in the rearview mirror as the man looked back at Dean.

Dean reacted to Sam's voice, fully opening his eyes in surprise and choking out, "Sammy…?"

Sam rubbed Dean's arm again in an attempt at reassurance. "Yeah, I'm here."

Dean felt very confused. Why was Sam here? All he kept thinking was that Sam had left. But Dean was fairly sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or if he were, he gladly welcomed it. Sam was there, warm against him, holding him again.

He wanted to say so many things, but he knew he couldn't. His hands only clenched tighter in Sam's shirt. Fortunately Sam seemed to understand, holding Dean tighter in response and whispering, "I know. Don't worry, I'm not leaving," into Dean's hair.

Dean relaxed a little, until another thought popped into his mind. "Bobby?!" He choked out.

Bobby smiled, Sam could see it in the mirror. "Yeah, son, I'm here too."

After that, Dean settled down considerably as if now that he knew that he had his makeshift family around him, he could finally relax his guard a little.

Sam was struck then by how true that probably was, how that had probably been a large part of why Dean had been so upset at college. The other teen had been feeling upset and needy being away from them, but hadn't known how to ask for what he needed.

Soon they pulled up at an Emergency Department and John was again, helping lift a still shivering Dean out of the car. Sam carried Dean's upper body while John carried Dean's legs.

Within moments Dean was being wheeled away again.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

And again, Sam and Bobby were sitting by a hospital bed waiting for Dean to wake up. Fortunately, this time they weren't going to have such a long wait. It was only painkillers keeping the other teen asleep.

John had been right about the injuries that Dean had sustained: dehydration, hypothermia, a concussion. Dean had already had the tests showing that he hadn't bruised his brain and an x-ray showing that Dean had broken his heel bone when he had fallen.

Yep, the only lasting physical consequence of this misadventure would be a moon-boot cast and crutches for six weeks.

But this time, Sam wasn't going to ignore the emotional consequences. Dean had obviously been upset to almost run himself into the ground…and John had left again, obviously unable to handle the emotional fall-out.

Sam was less bitter about that than he would have thought he'd be. In some way, John did love his son and Sam knew that without the man, they would not have found Dean in time.

When Dean woke this time, he was less surprised to see them. But it seemed like none of them knew how to begin the conversation. Bobby asked how Dean was feeling, gave the teen some water to drink, told Dean about the cast…

And then Sam blurted out, "Dean we have to talk about this."

Dean was quiet but he nodded either his agreement or his acquiescence.

"John left."

Sam didn't know why that was the first thing that he said. He just felt like getting it out of the way, he guessed.

Dean nodded, looking at Bobby before answering in a gruff voice. "I know."

"Well, how do you feel about that? You can't keep it all bottled up this time, Dean." Sam knew that his voice was becoming more and more petulant and whiny.

"I'm…ok this time. He has his own problems to work out."

But Sam wasn't satisfied by that answer.

"Dean, I know…I know I haven't been the best boyfriend." Sam shushed Dean's attempts to interrupt on Sam's behalf. "Things have been hard for you and I didn't…" Sam choked back his own tears, "I didn't see that you needed me. I was oblivious to your pain and I didn't…insist that you talk about it, that you deal with it. But I'm done with pretending that everything is fine and I want you to be done too. Dean, running like that wasn't a healthy response. I think that you should see a counselor."

Sam felt the silence after his last statement like a physical entity. Dean wasn't the sharing and caring kind of guy as the other teen said and Dean might take offense at the suggestion, assume Sam was suggesting that Dean was weak.

Sam looked over to Bobby to support and the older man nodded, feeling for once that Sam was handling the situation responsibly, neither shirking his own responsibility nor trying to blame Dean.

To both of their everlasting surprise, Dean said, "Ok."

Picking at the blanket covering him nervously, Dean kept speaking. "I don't…I don't want to lose you, either of you. I know I don't handle things well and I don't want to be like my Dad."

Dean gave a half grimace, half smile at the thought. "When I was…I thought…" Dean's voice was full of choked tears and for once they actually did roll down his cheeks, the sight loosening a kind of pressure in Sam's chest even as sobs rose in his own throat.

They all knew that Dean had thought that he was going to die, crawling in a desperate effort to save himself. "There was so much I wanted to say to the both of you, so much that I wanted to say thank you for."

The tears were rolling in earnest then and Bobby leaned down and took Dean's face in his rough hands. Two calloused thumbs brushed away the tears and then Bobby was looking directly into green eyes bright with sorrow and need and hope and fear in them, long eyelashes clumping into starpoints, the boy seemingly holding his breath as he waited for the older man to speak.

And when Bobby did speak, it was with quiet conviction. He was a man of few words, because Bobby didn't waste them. He said, "Family doesn't end with blood, boy."

Dean seemed startled, mulled over the words in his head, before he was nodding, the tears beginning to fall again.

Bobby sat down on the bed and pulled Dean's head to his shoulder, the teen's tears dampening his shirt.

Dean felt like a little kid again, that he was again that little boy who had yearned for his father to hold him as he cried, a kid who had been looking for his family only to realize they were right in front of his face and all he had to do was reach out.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

They had all learned a lesson. Dean went to see a counselor once a week at the college. Sam made time for his boyfriend and didn't let Dean push him away.

Bobby and Dean had spoken to the football coach and explained what had happened. Dean didn't lose his scholarship and would hopefully start the next year.

Things weren't perfect but they were working on it.

_Author's Note: So that's it for this round. I think this verse may go on forever because now I'm thinking of a story in which Dean and Sam face an obstacle together. Anyway, until next time…_

_Ok, I've received a lot of messages about this being the end. It's not. I would love to write Dean going to see a counselor and Sam and he becoming closer. I'd love to write him finding his niche in life (any bets on what career suits Dean best?). However, this story is over because I finished what I set out to write. I need to get some more inspiration, which I have to say kind of comes and goes. Any ideas are always welcome. Someone also mentioned that I skipped over a lot of time in their high school days, so maybe I'll write an interlude that describes more Dean's first days out of the hospital and back at school. Thanks everyone_


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